THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

JAMES  J.  MC   BRIDE 


"~  /a  o  1  . 


The  Stickit  Minister's  Wooing 


The  Stickit  Minister's 
Wooing 


By 

S.  R.  Crockett 


New  York 

Doubledav   &   McClure  Co. 

1900 


COPTBIGHT,    1900, 

By   S.   R.   CROCKETT. 


NortoooB  i3«BB 

J.  S.  Cuehing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


' 


CONTENTS 


The  Stickix  Minister's  Wooing 

Thk  Sm  kit  Minister  Wins  Througb 

Gibbi   the   Eel,  Student  in  Diviniti 

Doctob  (in:N 'a  Assistant 

The  Gate  op  the  Upper  Garden 
The  Troubles  of  Israel 
Carnation's  Morning  Jov     . 
Jaimsie    ..... 
Beadle  and  Martyr     . 
The  Blue  Etes  of  Ailie 
Lowe's  Seat  .... 
The  Slit  of  Bottle  Green 
A  Scientific  Symposium 
The  Bempie's  Love  Story    . 
The  Little  Fair   Man: 

I.     Seed  Sown  by  the  Wayside 
II.     The  Humbling  of  Strength-o'-Airm 
III.     The  Curate  of  Kirkchrist 
My  Father's  Love  Story 
The  Man  of  Wrath 
The  Lass  in  tiii:  Shop  . 
The  Respect  or  Drowdle    . 
Tadmor  in  tiii;  Wilderness 
Peterson's  Patient 
Two  IIimofrists    . 


1 
11 

36 

50 

08 

88 

104 

120 

134 

L53 

169 

188 

202 

216 
233 
249 

276 

288 
301 

:::;. 

351 


7124'JG 


THE    STirKIT    MINISTER'S    WOOINfi  ' 

It  was  in  the  second  year  of  my  college  life  that  I 
came  home  to  find  Robert  Fraser,  win  mi  a  whole  coun- 
try-side called  the  "Stickit  Minister,"  distinctly  w<  i 
and  indeed,  set  down  upon  his  great  chair  in  the  corner 
as  on  a  place  from  which  he  would  never  rise. 

A  dour,  grippy  back-end  it  was,  the  soil  stubborn  and 
untoward  with  early  frost.  And  a  strange  sound  it  was 
to  hear  as  I  (Alexander  McQuhirr)  came  down  the  I. 
Brae,  the  channel  stones  droning  and  dinnelling  on  the 
ice  by  the  third  of  November  ;  a  thing  which  had 
happened  in  our  parts  since  that  fell  year  of  the  Six- 
teen Drifty  Days,  which  has  been  so  greatly  talked  about. 

I  walked  over  to  the  Dullarg  the  very  night  I  arrived 
from  Edinburgh.  I  had  a  new  volume  of  Tennyson  with 
me,  which  I  had  bought  with  the  thought  that  he  would 
be  pleased  with  it.  For  I  loved  Robert  Fraser,  and  I 
will  not  deny  that  my  heart  beat  with  expectation  as  I 
went  up  the  little  loaning  with  the  rough  stone  dyke 
upon  either  side — aye,  as  if  it  had  been  the  way  to 
Nether  Neuk,  and  I  going  to  see  my  sweetheart. 

"Come  your  ways  in,  Alec,  man,"  his  voice  came  from 
the  inner  room  as  he  heard  me  pause  to  exchange  banter 

1  These  stories  have  beeu  edited  chiefly  from  manuscripts  sup] 
to  me  by  my  friend  Mr.  Alexander  McQuhirr,  M.D.,  of  Cairn  Edward 
in  Galloway,  of  whose  personal  adventures  !  treated  in  th<>  v<  hime 
called   "  Lad's  Love."     I   have  let  my  friend  tell  his  tale  in  his  own 
way  in  almost  every  case. 

1 


2  THE   STICKIT   MINISTER'S   WOOING 

of  a  rural  sort  with  the  servant  lasses  in  the  kitchen ;  "  1 
have  been  waitin'  for  ye.  I  kenned  ye  wad  come  the 
nicht ! " 

I  went  in.  And  there  by  the  little  peat  fire,  drowsing 
red  and  looking  strangely  out  of  place  behind  the  ribs  of 
the  black-leaded  "register"  grate,  I  saw  the  Stickit 
Minister  with  a  black-and-white  check  plaid  about  his 
knees.  He  smiled  a  strange  sweet  smile,  at  once  wistful 
and  distant,  as  I  entered  —  like  one  who  waves  farewell 
through  a  mist  of  tears  as  the  pier  slides  back  and  the 
sundering  water  seethes  and  widens  about  the  ship. 

"  You  are  better,  Robert !  "  I  said,  smiling  too.  Dully, 
and  yet  with  dogged  cheerfulness,  I  said  it,  as  men  lie  to 
the  dying  —  and  are  not  believed. 

He  stretched  out  his  thin  hand,  the  ploughman's  horn 
clean  gone  from  it,  and  the  veins  blue  and  convex  upon 
the  shrunk  wrist. 

u  Ave  atque  vale,  Alec,  lad!"  he  answered.  "That  is 
what  it  has  come  to  with  Robert  Fraser.  But  how  are 
all  at  Drumquhat  ?  Ye  will  be  on  your  road  ower  to  the 
Nether  Neuk  ?  " 

This  he  said,  though  he  knew  different. 

"I  have  brought  you  this  from  Edinburgh,"  I  said, 
giving  him  the  little,  thin,  green  volume  of  Tennyson.  I 
had  cut  it  to  save  him  trouble,  and  written  his  name  on 
the  blank  page  before  the  title. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  way  he  looked  at  it.  He 
opened  it  as  a  woman  unfolds  a  new  and  costly  garment, 
with  a  lingering  caress  of  the  wasted  finger-tips  through 
which  I  could  almost  see  the  white  of  the  paper,  and  a 
slow  soft  intake  of  the  breath,  like  a  lover's  sigh. 

His  eyes,  of  old  blue  and  clear,  had  now  a  kind  of 


THE    STICK  IT    MIMSTKK'S    Wool  Mi  3 

glaze  over  them,  ;i  veiling  Indian  summer  mist,  through 
which,  however,  still  shone,  all  undimmed  and  fearli 

the  light  of  the  simplest  and  manfulest  spirit  I  have 
ever  known.  He  turned  the  leaves  and  read  a  vei 
here  and  there  with  evident  pleasure.  He  had  a  way 
of  reading  anything  he  loved  as  if  listening  inly  to  the 
cadences  —  a  little  half-turn  of  the  head  aside,  and  a  still 
contented  smile  hovering  about  the  lips,  like  one  who 
catches  the  first  returning  fall  of  beloved  footsteps. 

But  all  at  once  Robert  Fraser  shut  the  book  and  let 
his  hands  sink  wearily  down  upon  his  knee.  He  did  not 
look  at  me,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  the  red  peat  ash  in  the 
"  register  "  grate. 

"  It's  bonnie,"  he  murmured  softly ;  "  and  it  was  a 
kind  thing  for  you  to  think  on  me.  But  it's  gane  frae 
me,  Alec  —  it's  a'  clean  gane.  Tak'  you  the  book,  Alec. 
The  birdies  will  never  sing  again  in  ony  spring  for  me 
to  hear.  I'm  baek  upon  the  Word,  Alec.  There's 
nocht  but  That  for  me  noo ! " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  a  Bible  that  was  open  beside 
him  on  the  stand  which  held  his  medicine  bottles,  and 
a  stocking  at  which  his  wearied  fingers  occasionally 
knitted  for  a  moment  or  two  at  a  time. 

Then  he  gave  the  little  green-clad  Tennyson  back  to 
me  with  so  motherly  and  lingering  a  regard  that,  had  I 
not  turned  away,  I  declare  I  know  not  but  that  I  had 
been  clean  done  for. 

"  Yet  for  a'  that,  Alec,"  he  said,  "  do  you  take  the  book 
for  my  sake.  And  see  —  cut  out  the  leaf  ye  hae  written 
on  and  let  me  keep  it  here  beside  me." 

I  did  as  he  asked  me,  and  with  the  leaf  in  his  hand 
he  turned  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible  carefully,  lik 


4  THE   STICKIT   MINISTER'S  WOOING 

minister  looking  for  a  text.  He  stopped  at  a  yellowing 
envelope,  as  if  uncertain  whether  to  deposit  the  inscrip- 
tion in  it.  Then  he  lifted  the  stamped  oblong  and  handed 
it  to  me  with  a  kind  of  smile. 

"  There,  Alec,"  he  said,  "  you  that  has  (so  they  tell  me) 
a  sweetheart  o'  your  ain,  ye  will  like  to  see  that.  This 
is  the  envelope  that  held  the  letter  I  gat  frae  Jessie 
Loudon  —  the  nicht  Sir  James  telled  me  at  the  Infirm- 
ary that  my  days  were  numbered  !  " 

"  Oh,  Robert ! "  I  cried,  all  ashamed  that  he  should 
speak  thus  to  a  young  man  like  me,  "  dinna  think  o' 
that.  You  will  excite  yourself  —  you  may  do  yourself 
a  hurt " 

But  he  waved  me  away,  still  smiling  that  slow  misty 
smile,  in  which,  strangely  enough,  there  was  yet  some  of 
the  humoursomeness  of  one  who  sees  a  situation  from 
the  outside. 

"Na,  Alec,  lad,"  he  said  softly,  "that's  gane  too. 
Upon  a  dark  day  I  made  a  pact  wi'  my  Maker,  and  now 
the  covenanted  price  is  nearly  paid.  His  messenger  wi' 
the  discharge  is  already  on  the  road.  I  never  hear  a 
hand  on  the  latch,  but  I  look  up  to  see  Him  enter  — 
aye,  and  He  shall  be  welcome,  welcome  as  the  bride- 
groom that  enters  into  the  Beloved's  chamber ! " 

I  covered  my  brows  with  my  palm,  and  pretended  to 
look  at  the  handwriting  on  the  envelope,  which  was  deli- 
cate and  feminine.     The  Stickit  Minister  went  on. 

"Aye,  Alec,"  he  said  meditatively,  with  his  eyes  still 
on  the  red  glow,  "  ye  think  that  ye  love  the  lass  ye  hae 
set  your  heart  on;  and  doubtless  ye  do  love  her  truly. 
But  I  pray  God  that  there  may  never  come  a  day  when 
ye  shall  have  spoken  the  last  sundering  word,  and  re- 


THE   STICKIT    MDTISTEE'S    WOOING 

turned  her  the  written  sheets   faithfully  every  CM  i 
hae  heard  the  story,  Alec.     I  will   no!   hurl  your  young 
heart  by  telling  it  again.    But  I  spared  Jessie  Loudon  all 
I  could,  and  showed  her  that  she  must  not  mate  hei 
young  life  with  one  no  better  than  dead  ! " 

The  Stickit  Minister  was  silent-  a  long  time  here. 
Doubtless  old  faces  looked  at  him  clear  out  of  the  red 
spaces  of  the  fire.  And  when  he  began  to  speak  again, 
it  was  in  an  altered  voice. 

"  Nevertheless,  because   power  was  given  me,  I    | 
with,  and  in  some  measure  comforted  her.     For  though 
the  lassie's  heart  was  set   on  me,  it   was  as  a  bairn's 
heart   is   set,  not   like  the  heart  of  a  woman ;  and  for 
that  1  praise  the  Lord  —  yes,  I  give  thanks  to  His  name ! 

"  Then  after  that  I  came  back  to  an  empty  house  — 
and  this ! " 

He  caressed  the  faded  envelope  lovingly,  as  a  miser 
his  intimatest  treasure. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  keep  it,  Alec,"  he  went  on 
presently,  "but  I  am  glad  I  did.  It  lias  been  a  comfort 
to  me ;  and  through  all  these  years  it  has  rested  there 
where  ye  see  it  —  upon  the  chapter  where  God  answers 
Job  out  of  the  whirlwind.     Ye  ken  yon  great  words." 

We  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  yard,  the  wheels  of 
some  light  vehicle  driven  quickly.  The  Stickit  Minister 
started  a  little,  and  when  I  looked  at  him  again  I  saw 
that  the  red  spot,  the  size  of  a  crown-piece,  which  burned 
so  steadfastly  on  his  cheek-bone,  had  spread  till  now  it 
covered  bis  brow. 

Then  we  listened,  breathless,  like  men  that  wait  for 
a  marvel,  and  through  the  hush  the  peats  on  the  grate 
suddenly  fell  inward  with  a  startling  sound,  bringing  my 


6  THE   STICKIT   MINISTER'S  WOOING 

heart  into  my  mouth.  Next  we  heard  a  voice  without, 
loud  and  a  little  thick,  in  heated  debate. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  cried  the  Stickit  Minister,  fervently. 
"  It's  Henry  —  my  dear  brother !  For  a  moment  I 
feared  it  had  been  Lawyer  Johnston  from  Cairn  Edward. 
You  know,"  he  added,  smiling  with  all  his  old  swift 
gladsomeness,  "I  am  now  but  a  tenant  at  will.  I  sit 
here  in  the  Dullarg  on  sufferance  —  that  once  was  the 
laird  of  acre  and  onstead ! " 

He  raised  his  voice  to  carry  through  the  door  into 
the  kitchen. 

"Henry,  Henry,  this  is  kind  —  kind  of  you  —  to 
come  so  far  to  see  me  on  such  a  night ! " 

The  Stickit  Minister  was  on  his  feet  by  this  time,  and 
if  I  had  thought  that  his  glance  had  been  warm  and 
motherly  for  me,  it  was  fairly  on  fire  with  affection  now. 
I  believe  that  Robert  Fraser  once  loved  his  betrothed 
faithfully  and  well ;  but  never  will  I  believe  that  he  loved 
woman  born  of  woman  as  he  loved  his  younger  brother. 

And  that  is,  perhaps,  why  these  things  fell  out  so. 

I  had  not  seen  Henry  Eraser  since  the  first  year  he 
had  come  to  Cairn  Edward.  A  handsome  young  man  he 
was  then,  with  a  short,  supercilious  upper  lip,  and  crisply 
curling  hair  of  a  fair  colour  disposed  in  masses  about  his 
brow. 

He  entered,  and  at  the  first  glimpse  of  him  I  stood 
astonished.  His  pale  student's  face  had  grown  red  and 
a  trifle  mottled.  The  lids  of  his  blue  eyes  (the  blue  of 
his  brother's)  were  injected.  His  mouth  was  loose  and 
restless  under  a  heavy  moustache,  and  when  he  began 
to  speak  his  voice  came  from  him  thick  and  throaty. 


THE   STICKIT    MINISTER'S    WOOING  7 

"I  'wonder  you  do  not  keep  your  people  in  better 
order,  Robert,"  he  said,  before  be  fairly  within  the 

door  of  the  little  sitting-room.  •'  Firsl   1  drove  right  into 
a  farm-cart  that  had  been  left  in  the  middle  of  the  ya 
and  then  nearly  broke  my  shins  over  a  pail  some  care 
less  slut  of  a  byre-lass  had  thrown  down  at  the  kitchen- 
door." 

Robert  Eraser  had  been  standing  up  with  the  glad  and 
eager  look  on  his  face.  I  think  he  had  half  stretched 
out  his  hand;  but  at  his  brother's  querulous  words  he  sank 
slowly  back  into  his  chair,  and  the  gray  tiredness  slipped 
into  his  face  almost  as  quickly  as  it  had  disappeared, 

"I  am  sorry,  Henry,"  he  said  simply.  "Somehow  I 
do  not  seem  to  get  about  so  readily  as  I  did,  and  I  dare- 
say the  lads  and  lasses  take  some  advantage." 

"  They  would  not  take  advantage  with  me,  I  can  tell 
you ! "  cried  the  young  doctor,  throwing  down  his  driv- 
ing-cape on  the  corner  of  the  old  sofa,  and  pulling  a 
chair  in  to  the  fire.  He  bent  forward  and  chafed  his 
hands  before  the  glowing  peats,  and  as  he  did  so  I  could 
see  by  a  slight  lurch  and  quick  recovery  that  he  had 
been  drinking.     I  wondered  if  Robert  Eraser  noticed. 

Then  he  leaned  back  and  looked  at  the  Stickit  Minister. 

"Well,  Kobert,  how  do  you  find  yourself  to-night? 
Better,  eh  ?  "  he  said,  speaking  in  his  professional  voice. 

His  brother's  face  flushed  again  with  the  same  swift 
pleasure,  very  pitiful  to  see. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  ask,"  he  said ;  "  I  think  I  do  feel 
a  betterness,  Henry.  The  cough  has  certainly  been  less 
troublesome  this  last  day  or  two." 

"I  suppose  there  are  no  better  prospects  about  the 
property,"  said  Dr.  Fraser,  passing   from  the  medical 


8  THE   8TICKIT   MINISTER'S   WOOING 

[uestion  with  no  more  than  the  words  I  have  written 
down.  I  had  already  risen,  and,  with  a  muttered  excuse, 
was  passing  into  the  outer  kitchen,  that  I  might  leave 
the  brothers  alone. 

So  I  did  not  hear  Robert  Fraser's  reply,  but  as  I  closed 
the  door  I  caught  the  younger's  loud  retort :  "  I  tell 
you  what  it  is,  Robert  —  say  what  you  will  —  I  have  not 
been  fairly  dealt  with  in  this  matter  —  I  have  been 
swindled  ! " 

So  I  went  out  with  my  heart  heavy  within  me  for  my 
friend,  and  though  Bell  Gregory,  the  bonniest  of  the 
farm  lasses,  ostentatiously  drew  her  skirts  aside  and  left 
a  vacant  place  beside  her  in  the  ingle-nook,  I  shook  my 
head  and  kept  on  my  way  to  the  door  with  no  more  than 
a  smile  and  "  Anither  nicht,  Bell." 

"  Gie  my  love  to  Nance  ower  at  the  Nether  Neuk," 
she  cried  back,  with  challenge  in  her  tone,  as  I  went  out. 

But  even  Nance  Chrystie  was  not  in  my  thoughts  that 
night.  I  stepped  out,  passing  in  front  of  the  straw- 
thatched  bee-hives  which,  with  the  indrawing  days,  had 
lost  their  sour-sweet  summer  smell,  and  so  on  into  the 
loaning.  From  the  foot  of  the  little  brae  I  looked  back 
at  the  lights  burning  so  warmly  and  steadily  from  the 
low  windows  of  the  Dullarg,  and  my  mind  went  over  all 
my  father  had  told  me  of  what  the  Stickit  Minister  had 
done  for  his  brother:  how  he  had  broken  off  his  own 
college  career  that  Henry  might  go  through  his  medi- 
cal classes  with  ease  and  credit;  and  how,  in  spite  of 
his  brother's  rank  ingratitude,  he  had  bonded  his  little 
property  in  order  to  buy  him  old  Dr.  Aitkin's  practice  in 
Cairn  Edward. 

Standing  thus  and  thinking  under  the  beeches  at  the 


THE    STICKIT    MINISTER'S   WOOING  9 

foot  of  the  dark  loaning,  it  gave  me  quite  a  atart  to  find 
a  figure  close  beside  me.  It,  was  ;i  woman  with  a  shawl 
over  hex  head,  as  is  the  habit  of  the  cotters'  wives  in  our 
parish. 

"Teil  me,"  a  voice,  eager  and  hurried,  panted  almost 
in  my  ear,  "is  Dr.  Fraser  of  Cairn  Edward  uj>  tln-iv  '.'  " 

••  Yes,"  I  said  in  reply,  involuntarily  drawing  back  a 
step  —  the  woman  was  so  near  me — "he  is  this  moment 
with  his  brother." 

"Then  for  God's  sake  will  ye  gang  up  and  tell  him  to 
come  this  instant  to  the  Barmark  cothouses?  There  are 
twa  bairns  there  that  are  no  like  to  see  the  mornin'  licht 
if  he  doesna  !  " 

"  But  who  may  you  be  ?  "  I  said,  for  I  did  not  want  to 
return  to  the  Dullarg.  "'And  why  do  you  not  go  in  and 
tell  him  for  yourself  ?  You  can  give  him  the  particulars 
of  the  case  better  than  I ! " 

She  gave  a  little  shivering  moan. 

"  I  canna  gang  in  there  !  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands 
piteously ;  "  I  darena.  Not  though  I  am  Gilbert  Bar- 
bour's wife  —  and  the  bairns'  mither.     Oh,  sir,  rin !  " 

And  I  ran. 

But  when  I  had  knocked  and  delivered  my  message,  to 
my  great  surprise  Dr.  Henry  Fraser  received  it  very  coolly. 

"  They  are  only  some  cotter  people,"  he  said ;  "  they 
must  jnst  wait  till  I  am  on  my  way  back  from  the  vil- 
lage. I  will  look  in  then.  Robert,  it  is  a  cold  night, 
let  me  have  some  whiskey  before  I  get  into  that  ice-box 
of  a  gig  again." 

The  Stickit  Minister  turned  towards  the  wall-press 
where,  ever  since  his  mother's  day,  the  "  guardevin,"  or 
little  rack  of  cut-glass  decanters,  had  stood,  always  hos- 


10        THE   STICKIT   MINISTER'S   WOOING 

pitably  full,  but  quite  untouched  by  the  master  of  the 
house. 

I  was  still  standing  uncertainly  by  the  door-cheek,  and 
as  Robert  Fraser  stepped  across  the  little  room  I  saw  him 
stagger,  and  rushed  forward  to  catch  him.  But  ere  I 
could  reach  him  he  had  commanded  himself,  and  turned 
to  me  with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  Yet  even  his  brother  was 
struck  by  the  ashen  look  on  his  face. 

"  Sit  down,  Robert,"  he  said,  "  I  will  help  my- 
self." 

But  with  a  great  effort  the  Stickit  Minister  set  the 
tall  narrow  dram-glass  on  the  table  and  ceremoniousl3T 
filled  out  to  his  brother  the  stranger's  "  portion,"  as  was 
once  the  duty  of  country  hospitality  in  Scotland. 

But  the  doctor  interrupted. 

"  Oh,  I  say ! "  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw  what  his 
brother  was  doing,  "  for  heaven's  sake  not  that  thing  — 
give  me  a  tumbler." 

And  without  further  ceremony  he  went  to  the  cup- 
board; then  he  cried  to  Bell  Gregory  to  fetch  him 
some  hot  water,  and  mixed  himself  a  steaming  glass. 

But  the  Stickit  Minister  did  not  sit  down.  He 
stood  up  by  the  mantelpiece  all  trembling.  I  noted 
particularly  that  his  fingers  spilled  half  the  contents 
of  the  dram-glass  as  he  tried  to  pour  them  back  into 
the  decanter. 

"  Oh,  haste  ye,  Henry !  "  he  said,  with  a  pleading  anx- 
iety in  his  voice  I  had  never  heard  there  in  any  trouble 
of  his  own ;  "  take  up  your  drink  and  drive  as  fast  as  ye 
can  to  succour  the  poor  woman's  bairns.  It  is  not  for 
nothing  that  she  would  come  here  seeking  you  at  this 
time  of  night !  " 


THE   8TICKIT    BONISTER'S    WOOING       11 

His  brother  Laughed  easily  as  he  reseated  himself  and 
drew  the  tumbler  uearer  to  his  elbow. 

"That's  all  you  know,  Robert,"  he  said;  "why,  they 
come  all  tin-  way  I"  Cairn  Kdward  after  me  it'  their  little 
finger  aches,  let  alone  over  here.  1  daresay  some  of  the 
brats  have  got  the  mumps,  and  the  mother  saw  me  as  I 
drove  past.  No,  indeed  —  she  and  they  must  just  w: 
till  I  get  through  my  business  at  Whinny liggate ! " 

"I  ask  you,  Henry,"  said  his  brother  eagerly,  "do 
this  for  my  sake ;  it  is  not  often  that  I  ask  you  anything 
—  nor  will  [  have  long  time  now  wherein  to  ask!" 

••  Well,''  grumbled  the  young  doctor,  rising  and  finish- 
ing the  toddy  as  he  stood,  "  I  suppose  I  must,  if  you 
make  a  point  of  it.  But  I  will  just  look  in  at  Whinny- 
liggate  on  my  way  across.  Earmark  is  a  good  two  miles 
on  my  way  home  !" 

"  Thank  you,  Henry,"  said  Robert  Fraser,  "  I  will  not 
forget  this  kindness  to  me  !  " 

With  a  brusque  nod  Dr.  Henry  Eraser  strode  out 
through  the  kitchen,  among  whose  merry  groups  his  com- 
ings and  goings  always  created  a  certain  hush  of  awe. 
In  a  few  minutes  more  we  could  hear  the  clear  clatter  of 
the  horse's  shod  feet  on  the  hard  "macadam  "  as  he  turned 
out  of  the  soft  sandy  loaning  into  the  main  road. 

The  Stick  it  Minister  sank  back  into  his  chair. 

"  Thank  God ! "  he  said,  with  a  quick  intake  of  breath 
almost  like  a  sob. 

I  looked  down  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Robert,  why  are  you  so  troubled  about  this  woman's 
bairns  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  while,  lying  fallen  in  upon 
himself  in  his  great  armchair  of  worn  horsehair,  as  if 


12        THE   STICKIT   MINISTER'S   WOOING 

the  strain  had  been  too  great  for  his  weak  body.  When 
he  did  reply  it  was  in  a  curiously  far-away  voice  like  a 
man  speaking  in  a  dream. 

"  They  are  Jessie  Loudon's  bairns,"  he  said,  "  and  a' 
the  comfort  she  has  in  life  ! " 

I  sat  down  on  the  hearthrug  beside  him  —  a  habit  I 
had  when  we  were  alone  together.  It  was  thus  that  I 
used  to  read  Homer  and  Horace  to  him  in  the  long  win- 
ter forenights,  and  wrangle  for  happy  hours  over  a  con- 
struction or  the  turning  of  a  phrase  in  the  translation. 
So  now  I  simply  sat  and  was  silent,  touching  his  knee 
lightly  with  my  shoulder.  I  knew  that  in  time  he  would 
tell  me  all  he  wished  me  to  hear.  The  old  eight-day 
clock  in  the  corner  (with  "John  Grey,  Kilmaurs,  1791," 
in  italics  across  the  brass  face  of  it),  ticked  on  inter- 
minably through  ten  minutes,  and  I  heard  the  feet  of 
the  men  come  in  from  suppering  the  horse,  before 
Robert  said  another  word.  Then  he  spoke:  "Alec," 
he  said,  very  quietly  —  he  could  hardly  say  or  do  any- 
thing otherwise  (or  rather  I  thought  so  before  that 
night)  —  "I  have  this  on  my  spirit  —  it  is  heavy  like  a 
load.  When  I  broke  it  to  Jessie  Loudon  that  I  could 
never  marry  her,  as  I  told  you,  I  did  not  tell  you  that 
she  took  it  hard  and  high,  speaking  bitter  words  that  are 
best  forgotten.  And  then  in  a  week  or  two  she  married 
Gib  Barbour,  a  good-for-nothing,  good-looking  young 
ploughman,  a  great  don  at  parish  dances  —  no  meet  mate 
for  her.  And  that  I  count  the  heaviest  part  of  my 
punishment. 

"And  since  that  day  I  have  not  passed  word  or  saluta- 
tion with  Jessie  Loudon  —  that  is,  with  Jessie  Barbour. 
But  on  a  Sabbath  day,  just  before  I  was  laid  down  last 


THE   STICKIT    MINISTER'S    WOOING        L3 

year  —  a   bonnie  day  in  June  —  I  met  her  as  I   ]>as 
through  a  bourock  fresh  with  the  gowden  broom,  and  I 
'shilfies'  and  Jennie  Wrena  Binging  on  every  brier.     I 

had  been  lookin'  for  a  sheep  that  had  broken  bounds. 
And  there  she  sat  wi'  a  youngling  on  ilka  knee.  There 
passed  but  ae  blink  o'  the  e'en  between  us  —  ane  and  nae 
mair.  But  oh,  Alec,  as  I  am  a  sinful  man  —  married 
wife  though  she  was,  I  kenned  that  she  loved  me,  and 
she  kenned  that  I  loved  her  wi'  the  love  that  has  nae 
ending ! " 

There  was  a  long  pause  here,  and  the  clock  struck  with 
a  long  preparatory  g-r-r-r,  as  if  it  were  clearing  its  throat 
in  order  to  apologise  for  the  coming  interruption. 

"  And  that,"  said  Robert  Fraser,  "  was  the  reason  why 
Jessie  Loudon  would  not  come  up  to  the  Dullarg  this 
nicht  —  no,  not  even  for  her  bairns'  sake  !" 


THE   STICKIT  MINISTER  WINS   THBOUGH 

Yet  Jessie  Loudon  did  come  to  the  Dullarg  that  night 
—  and  that  for  her  children's  sake. 

Strangely  enough,  in  writing  of  an  evening  so  fruit- 
ful in  incident,  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  remember 
what  happened  during  the  next  two  hours.  The  lads  and 
lasses  came  in  for  the  "  Taking  of  the  Book."  So  much 
I  do  recall.  But  that  was  an  exercise  never  omitted 
on  any  pretext  in  the  house  of  the  ex-divinity  student. 
I  remember  this  also,  because  after  the  brief  prelude 
of  the  psalm-singing  (it  was  the  103rd),  the  Stickit 
Minister  pushed  the  Bible  across  to  me,  open  at  the 
thirty-eighth  chapter  of  Job.  The  envelope  was  still 
there.  Though  it  was  turned  sideways  I  could  see  the 
faintly  written  address  : 

MR.  ROBERT  FRASER, 

Student  in  Divinity, 

50,  St.  Leonard's  Street, 
Edinburgh. 

Even  as  I  looked  I  seemed  to  hear  again  the  woman's 
voice  in  the  dark  loaning — "I  canna  gang  in  there!" 
And  in  a  lightning  flash  of  illumination  it  came  to  me 
what  the  answer  to  that  letter  had  meant  to  Jessie  Lou- 
don, and  the  knowledge  somehow  made  me  older  and 
sadder. 

14 


THE   MINISTEB    WINS   THROUGH  L5 

Then  with  ;i  shaking  voice  I  read  the  mightj  words 
before  me:   " When  the  morni]  ang  togethei  and 

all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy."  ■  .  .  But  when 
I  came  to  the  verse  whi  eh  says:  "  Save  the  gates  of  death 
been  opened  unto  thee?  Or  hast  thou  seen  the  doors  of 
the  shadow  of  death?"  I  saw  the  Stickit  Minister  nod 
his  head  three  times  very  slightly,  and  a  strange  sul-th- 
smile  came  over  his  face  as  though  he  coidd  have  an- 
swered, "  Yea,  Lord,  verily  I  have  seen  them — they  have 
been  opened  to  me!" 

And  as  the  lads  and  lasses  filed  out  in  a  kind  of  won- 
dering silence  after  Eobert  Eraser  had  prayed  —  not 
kneeling  down,  but  sitting  erect  in  his  chair  and  looking 
out  before  him  with  wide-open  eyes  —  we  in  the  little  sit- 
ting-room became  conscious  of  a  low  knocking,  persistent 
and  remote,  somewhere  about  the  house  of  Dullarg.  We 
could  hear  Bell  Gregory  open  and  then  immediately  close 
the  kitchen  door,  having  evidently  found  no  one  there. 
The  knocking  still  continued. 

"I  believe  it  is  somebody  at  the  front  door,"  I  said, 
turning  in  that  direction. 

And  then  the  Stickit  .Minister  cried  out  in  a  curious 
excited  voice:  ''Open  to  them  —  open,  Alec!  Quick, 
man ! " 

And  his  voice  went  through  me  with  a  kind  of  thrill, 
for  I  knew  not  who  it  was  lie  expected  to  enter,  whether 
sheriff's  officer  or  angry  creditor  —  or  as  it  might  be  the 
Angel  of  the  Presence  Himself  come  to  summon  his  soul 
to  follow. 

Nevertheless,  with  quaking  heart  enough,  and  resolv- 
ing in  future  to  be  a  more  religious  man,  I  made  bold  to 
undo  the  door. 


16  THE   MINISTER  WINS   THROUGH 

The  woraan  I  had  seen  in  the  iane  stood  before  me,  as 
it  were,  projected  out  of  the  dense  darkness  behind,  her 
shawl  fallen  back  from  her  face,  and  her  features  all 
pale  and  changeful  in  the  flicker  of  the  candle  I  had 
snatched  up  to  take  with  me  into  the  little  hall.  For 
the  front  door  was  only  used  on  state  occasions,  as 
when  the  parish  minister  came  to  call,  and  at  funerals. 

"He  has  not  come  —  and  the  bairns  are  dying!  So 
I  had  to  come  back ! "  she  cried,  more  hoarsely  and 
breathlessly  than  I  had  ever  heard  woman  speak.  But 
her  eyes  fairly  blazed  and  her  lips  were  parted  wide 
for  my  answer. 

"Dr.  Eraser  left  here  more  than  an  hour  ago,"  I 
stammered.    "Has  he  not  been  to  see  the  children?" 

"No  —  no,  I  tell  you,  no.  And  they  are  choking  — 
dying  —  it  is  the  trouble  in  the  throat.  They  will  die  if 
he  does  not  come " 

I  heard  a  noise  behind  me,  and  the  next  moment  I 
found  myself  put  aside  like  a  child,  and  Robert  Eraser 
stood  face  to  face  with  her  that  had  been  Jessie  Loudon. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said.  And  when  she  drew  back  from 
him  with  a  kind  of  shudder,  and  felt  uncertainly  for 
her  shawl,  he  stepped  aside  and  motioned  her  to 
enter  with  a  certain  large  and  commanding  gesture 
I  had  never  seen  him  use  before.  And  as  if  accus- 
tomed to  obey,  the  woman  came  slowly  within  the 
lighted  room.  Even  then,  however,  she  would  not 
sit  down,  but  stood  facing  us  both,  a  girl  prematurely 
old,  her  lips  nearly  as  pale  as  her  worn  cheeks,  her 
blown  hair  disordered  and  wispy  about  her  forehead,  and 
only  the  dark  and  tragic  flashing  of  her  splendid  eyes 
telling  of  a  bygone  beauty. 


Tin;    MINISTEK    WINS   THROUGH  17 

The  Stickit  Minister  stood  up  also,  and  as  he  leaned 
his  hand  upoD  the  table,  I  aoticed  that  he  gently  Bhut 
the  Bible  which  I  had  left  open,  that  the  woman's  eye 
might  not  fall  upon  the  faded  envelope  which  marked 
the  thirty-eighth  of  Job. 

"Do  I  understand  you  to  say,"  he  began,  in  a  voice 
clear,  resonant,  and  full,  not  at  all  the  voice  of  a  stricken 
man.  "thai  m\  brother  has  not  yet  visited  your  children?" 

"He  had  not  come  when  I  ran  out  —  they  are  much 
worse —  dying,  I  think!"  she  answered,  also  in  another 
voice  and  another  mode  of  speech  —  yet  a  little  stiffly,  as 
if  the  more  correct  method  had  grown  unfamiliar  by 
disuse. 

For  almost  the  only  time  in  his  life  I  saw  a  look,  stein 
and  hard,  come  over  the  countenance  of  the  Stickit 
Minister. 

"  Go  home,  Jessie,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  see  that  he  is 
there  as  fast  as  horses  can  bring  him  !  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Is  he  not  here?"  she  faltered.  "Oh.  tell  me  if  he  is 
—  I  meant  to  fetch  him  back.  I  dare  not  go  back  with- 
out him ! " 

The  Stickit  Minister  went  to  the  door  with  firm  step, 
the  woman  following  without  question  or  argument. 

"Fear  not,  but  go,  Jessie,"  he  said ;  "  my  brother  is  not 
here,  but  he  will  be  at  the  bairns'  bedside  almost  as  soon 
as  you.     I  promise  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Robin,"  she  stammered,  adjusting  the 
shawl  over  her  head  and  instantly  disappearing  into  the 
darkness.  The  old  sweet  hearting  name  had  risen  uncon- 
sciously to  her  lips  in  the  hour  of  her  utmost  need. 
I  think  neither  of  them  noticed  it. 


18  THE   MINISTER   WINS   THROUGH 

"  And  now  help  me  on  with  my  coat,"  said  Robert 
Fraser,  turning  to  me.    "  I  am  going  over  to  the  village." 

"  You  must  not,"  I  cried,  taking  him  by  the  arm ; 
"  let  me  go  — ■  let  me  put  in  the  pony ;  I  will  be  there  in 
ten  minutes ! " 

"  I  have  no  pony  now,"  he  said  gently  and  a  little 
sadly,  "  I  have  no  need  of  one.  And  besides,  the  quick- 
est way  is  across  the  fields." 

It  was  true.  The  nearest  way  to  the  village,  by  a  great 
deal,  was  by  a  narrow  foot-track  that  wound  across  the 
meadows.  But,  fearing  for  his  life,  I  still  tried  to  pre- 
vent him. 

"  It  will  be  your  death !  "  I  said,  endeavouring  to  keep 
him  back.     "  Let  me  go  alone  ! " 

"  If  Henry  is  where  I  fear  he  is,"  he  answered,  calmly, 
"  he  would  not  stir  for  you.  But  he  will  for  me.  And 
besides,  I  have  passed  my  word  to  —  to  Jessie ! " 

The  details  of  that  terrible  night  journey  I  will  not 
enter  upon.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  I  bade  him  lean 
on  me,  and  go  slowly,  but  do  what  I  would  I  could  not 
keep  him  back.  Indeed,  he  went  faster  than  I  could 
accompany  him  —  for,  in  order  to  support  him  a  little,  I 
had  to  walk  unevenly  along  the  ragged  edges  of  the  little 
field-path.  All  was  dark  gray  above,  beneath,  and  to  the 
right  of  us.  Only  on  the  left  hand  a  rough  whinstone 
dyke  stood  up  solidly  black  against  the  monotone  of  the 
sky.  The  wind  came  in  cold  swirls,  with  now  and  then 
a  fleck  of  snow  that  stung  the  face  like  hail.  I  had 
insisted  on  the  Stickit  Minister  taking  his  plaid  about 
him  in  addition  to  his  overcoat,  and  the  ends  of  it  flick- 
ing into  my  eyes  increased  the  difficulty. 

I  have  hardly  ever  been  so  thankful  in  my  life,  as  when 


THE   MINISTER   WINS  THROUGH  19 

at  last  1  saw  the  lights  of  the  village  gleam  a<  rose  the 
little  bridge,  as  we  emerged  from  the  water-meadows  and 
felt  our  tVH  firm  themselves  on  the  turnpike  road. 

From  that  point  the  Stickit  Minister  went  faster  than 
ever.  Indeed,  he  rushed  foi  ward,  in  spite  of  my  restrain- 
Lng  arm,  with  some  remaining  flicker  of  the  vigour  •which 
in  youth  had  made  him  first  on  the  hillside  at  the  fox- 
hunt and  first  on  the  haystacks  upon  the  great  day  of 
the  inbringing  of  the  winter's  fodder. 

It  seemed  hardly  a  moment  before  we  were  at  the  door 
of  the  inn  —  the  lied  Lion  the  name  of  it,  at  that  time  in 
the  possession  of  one  "Jeems"  Carter.  Yes,  Henry 
Fraser  was  there.  His  horse  was  tethered  to  an  iron  ring 
which  was  fixed  in  the  whitewashed  wall,  and  his  voice 
could  be  heard  at  that  very  moment  leading  a  rollicking 
chorus.  Then  I  remembered.  It  was  a  "  Cronies' "  night. 
This  was  a  kind  of  informal  club  recruited  from  the  more 
jovial  of  the  younger  horsebreeding  farmers  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood. It  included  the  local  "  vet.,"  a  bonnet  laird  or 
two  grown  lonesome  and  thirsty  by  prolonged  residence 
upon  the  edges  of  the  hills,  and  was  on  all  occasions 
proud  and  glad  to  welcome  a  guest  so  distinguished  and 
popular  as  the  young  doctor  of  Cairn  Edward. 

"  Loose  the  beast  and  be  ready  to  hand  me  the  reins 
when  I  come  out ! "  commanded  the  Stickit  Minister, 
squaring  his  stooped  shoulders  like  the  leader  of  a  forlorn 
hope. 

So  thus  it  happened  that  I  did  not  see  with  my  own 
eyes  what  happened  when  Robert  Fraser  opened  the  door 
of  the  "  Cronies' "  club-room.  But  I  have  heard  it  so  often 
recounted  that  I  know  as  well  as  if  I  had  seen.  It  was 
the  Laird  of  Butterhole  who  told  me,  and  he  always  said 


20  THE   MINISTER   WINS   THROUGH 

that  it  made  a  sober  man  of  him  from  that  day  forth. 
It  was  (he  said)  like  Lazarus  looking  out  of  the  sepul- 
chre after  they  had  rolled  away  the  stone. 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  their  jovial  chorus  some  one 
said  "  Hush ! "  —  some  one  of  themselves  —  and  instinc- 
tively all  turned  towards  the  door. 

And  lo !  there  in  the  doorway,  framed  in  the  outer 
dark,  his  broad  blue  bonnet  in  his  hand,  his  checked 
plaid  waving  back  from  his  shoulders,  stood  a  man,  pale 
as  if  he  had  come  to  them  up  through  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death.  With  a  hand  white  as  bone,  he  beck- 
oned to  his  brother,  who  stood  with  his  hands  on  the 
table  smiling  and  swaying  a  little  with  tipsy  gravity. 

"Why,  Robert,  what  are  you  doing  here ?  "  he  was 

beginning.     But  the  Stickit  Minister  broke  in. 

"  Come  !  "  he  said,  sternly  and  coldly,  "  the  children 
you  have  neglected  are  dying  —  if  they  die  through  your 
carelessness  you  will  be  their  murderer  !  " 

And  to  the  surprise  of  all,  the  tall  and  florid  younger 
brother  quailed  before  the  eye  of  this  austere  shade. 

"  Yes,  I  will  come,  Robert  —  I  was  coming  in  a  mo- 
ment anyway ! " 

And  so  the  Stickit  Minister  led  him  out.  There  was 
no  great  merriment  after  that  in  the  "Cronies'"  club 
that  night.  The  members  conferred  chiefly  in  whispers, 
and  presently  emptying  their  glasses,  they  stole  away 
home. 

But  no  mortal  knows  what  Robert  Fraser  said  to  his 
brother  during  that  drive  —  something  mightily  sobering 
at  all  events.  Eor  when  the  two  reached  the  small  clus- 
ter of  cothouses  lying  under  the  lee  of  Barmark  wood, 
the  young  man,  though  not  trusting  himself  to  articulate 


THE    MINISTKH    WINS   THROUGH  21 

speech,  and  somewhat  over-tremulous  of  hand,  was  yei 

in  other  respects  completely  master  of  himself.  I  was  not 
present  at  the  arrival,  just  as  I  had  not  seen  the  startling 

apparition  which  broke  up  the  "Cronies''-'  club.  The 
doctor's  gig  held  only  two,  and  as  soon  as  I  handed 
Robert  Fraser  the  reins,  the  beast  sprang  forward.  But  I 
was  limber  and  a  good  runner  in  those  days,  and  though 
the  gray  did  his  best  I  was  not  Ear  behind. 

There  is  no  ceremony  at  such  a  house  in  time  of  sick- 
ness. The  door  stood  open  to  the  wall.  A  bright  light 
streamed  through  and  revealed  the  inequalities  of  the 
little  apron  of  causewayed  cobblestones.  I  entered  and 
saw  Henry  Eraser  bending  over  a  bed  on  which  a  bairn 
was  lying.  Robert  held  a  candle  at  his  elbow.  The 
mother  paced  restlessly  to  and  fro  with  another  child  in 
her  arms.  I  could  see  the  doctor  touch  again  and  again 
the  back  of  the  little  girl's  throat  with  a  brush  which  he 
continually  replenished  from  a  phial  in  his  left  hand. 

Upon  the  other  side  of  the  hearthstone  from  the 
child's  bed  a  strong  country  lout  sat,  sullenly  "  beeking  " 
his  darned  stocking  feet  at  the  clear  embers  of  the  fire. 
Then  the  mother  laid  the  first  child  on  the  opposite  bed, 
and  turned  to  where  the  doctor  was  still  operating. 

Suddenly  Henry  Fraser  stood  erect.  There  was  not 
a  trace  of  dissipation  about  him  now.  The  tradition  of 
his  guild  was  as  a  mantle  of  dignity  about  him. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said  as  he  took  his  brother's 
hand  in  a  long  clasp.  "  Thank  you,  Robert,  thank  you 
a  thousand  times  —  that  you  brought  me  here  in  time  !  " 

"  Nay,  rather,  thank  God ! "  said  Robert  Fraser, 
solemnly. 

And  even  as  he  stood  there  the  Stickit  Minister  swayed 


22  THE   MINISTER   WINS   THROUGH 

sidelong,  but  the  next  moment  he  had  recovered  him- 
self with  a  hand  on  the  bed-post.  Then  very  swiftly 
he  drew  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  set  it  to 
his  lips. 

His  brother  and  I  went  toward  him  with  a  quick  appre- 
hension. But  the  Stickit  Minister  turned  from  us  both 
to  the  woman,  who  took  two  swift  steps  towards  him 
with  her  arms  outstretched,  and  such  a  yearning  of  love 
on  her  face  as  I  never  saw  before  or  since.  The  sullen 
lout  by  the  fire  drowsed  on  unheeding. 

"Jessie!"  cried  the  Stickit  Minister,  and  with  that 
fell  into  her  arms.  She  held  him  there  a  long  moment 
as  it  had  been  jealously,  her  head  bent  down  upon  his. 
Then  she  delivered  him  up  to  me  slowly  and  reluctantly. 

Henry  Fraser  put  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  gave  a 
great  sob. 

"  My  brother  is  dead ! "  he  said. 

But  Jessie  Loudon  did  not  utter  a  word. 


GIBBY   THE   EEL,    STUDENT    IX    DIVINITY 

\  \ni;\ lists  have  often  remarked  how  little  resem- 
blance  there  is  between  the  young  of  certain  animals  and 
the  adult  specimen.  Yonder  tottering  quadrangular  ar- 
rangement of  chewed  string,  remotely  and  inadequately 
connected  at  the  upper  corners,  is  certainly  the  young  of 
the  horse.  But  it  does  not  even  remotely  suggest  the 
war-horse  sniffing  up  the  battle  from  afar.  This  irregu- 
lar yellow  ball  of  feathers,  with  the  steel-blue  mask  set 
beneath  its  half-opened  eyelids,  is  most  ridiculously  unlike 
the  magnificent  eagle,  which  (in  books)  stares  unblinded 
into  the  very  eye  of  the  noonday  sun. 

In  like  manner  the  young  of  the  learned  professions 
are  by  no  means  like  the  full-fledged  expert  of  the 
mysteries.  If  in  such  cases  the  child  is  the  father  of 
the  man,  the  parentage  is  by  no  means  apparent. 

To  how  many  medical  students  would  you  willingly 
entrust  the  application  of  one  square  inch  of  sticking- 
plaster  to  a  cut  finger,  or  the  care  of  a  half-guinea 
umbrella  ?  "What  surgeon  would  you  not,  in  an  emer- 
gency, trust  with  all  you  hold  dear  ?  You  may  cherish 
preferences  and  even  prejudices,  but  as  a  whole  the 
repute  of  the  profession  is  above  cavil. 

There  is,  perhaps,  more  continuity  above  the  legal 
profession,  but  even  there  it  is  a  notable  fact  that  the 
older  and  more  successful  a  lawyer  is,  the  more  modest 
you  find  him,  and  the  more  diffident  of  his  own  infalli- 

23 


24  GIBBY   THE   EEL 

bility.  Indeed,  several  of  the  most  eminent  judges  are 
in  this  matter  quite  as  other  nwn. 

But  of  all  others,  the  divinity  student  is  perhaps  the 
most  misunderstood.  He  is  wilfully  misrepresented  by 
those  who  ought  to  know  him  best.  Nay,  he  misrepre- 
sents himself,  and  when  he  doffs  tweeds  and  takes  to 
collars  which  fasten  behind  and  a  long-skirted  clerical 
coat,  he  is  apt  to  disown  his  past  self;  and  often  succeeds 
in  persuading  himself  that  as  he  is  now,  diligent,  sedate, 
zealous  of  good  works,  so  was  he  ever. 

Only  sometimes,  when  he  has  got  his  Sunday  sermons 
off  his  mind  and  two  or  three  of  the  augurs  are  gathered 
together,  will  the  adult  clerk  in  holy  orders  venture  to 
lift  the  veil  and  chew  the  cud  of  ancient  jest  and  prank 
not  wholly  sanctified. 

Now  there  ought  to  be  room,  in  a  gallery  which  con- 
tains so  many  portraits  of  ministers,  for  one  or  two 
Students  of  Divinity,  faithfully  portrayed.1 

And  of  these  the  first  and  chief  is  Mr.  Gilbert  Den- 
holm,  Master  of  Arts,  Scholar  in  Theology  —  to  his 
class-fellows  more  colloquially  and  generally  known  as 
"  Gibby  the  Eel." 

At  college  we  all  loved  Gilbert.  He  was  a  merry- 
hearted  youth,  and  his  mere  bodily  presence  was  enough 
to  make  glad  the  countenances  of  his  friends.  His 
father  was  a  minister  in  the  West  with  a  large  family 
to   bring   up,   which   he   effected   with   success   upon   a 

1  These  studies  I  wrote  down  during  certain  winters,  when,  to 
please  my  mother,  I  made  a  futile  attempt  to  prepare  myself  "  to  wag 
my  head  in  a  pulpit."  Saving  a  certain  prolixity  of  statement  (which 
the  ill-affected  call  long-windedness) ,  they  were  all  I  carried  away  with 
me  when  I  resolved  to  devote  myself  to  the  medical  profession. — 
A.  McQ. 


GIBBY   THE    EEL 

stipend  of  surprising  tenuity.  Soil  behoved  Gilbert  to 
keep  himself  at  college  by  means  of  scholarships  and 
private  tuition.     His  pupils  had  a  lively  time  of  it. 

Yet  his  only  fault  obvious  to  the  world  was  a  certain 
light-headed  but  winsome  gaiety,  and  a  tendency  tu 
jokes  of  the.  practical  kind.  I  used  often  to  restrain 
Gilbert's  ardour  by  telling  him  that  if  he  did  not  behave 
himself  and  walk  more  seemly,  he  would  get  his  bursary 
taken  from  him  by  the  Senatus. 

This  would  recall  Gilbert  to  himself  wlien  almost 
everything  else  had  failed. 

Part  of  Gilbert's  personal  equipment  was  the  certain 
lithe  slimness  of  figure  which  gained  him  the  title  of 
"  Gibby  the  Eel,"  and  enabled  him  to  practise  many 
amusing  pranks  in  the  class-room.  He  would  have  made 
an  exceptionally  fine  burglar,  for  few  holes  were  too 
small  and  no  window  too  secure  for  Gilbert  to  make  his 
exits  and  entrances  by.  Without  going  so  far  as  to  say 
that  he  could  wriggle  himself  through  an  ordinary 
keyhole,  I  will  affirm  that  if  anybody  ever  could,  that 
person  was  Gilbert  Denholm. 

One  of  the  most  ordinary  of  his  habits  was  that  of 
wandering  here  and  there  throughout  the  class-room 
during  the  hour  of  lecture,  presuming  upon  the  pro- 
fessor's purblindness  or  lack  of  attention.  You  would 
be  sitting  calmly  writing  a  letter,  drawing  caricatures  in 
your  note-book,  or  otherwise  improving  your  mind  with 
the  most  laudable  imitation  of  attention,  when  suddenly, 
out  of  the  black  and  dusty  depths  about  your  feet  would 
arise  the  startling  apparition  of  Gibby  the  Eel.  He 
would  nod,  casually  inquire  how  you  found  yourself  this 
morning,  and  inform  you  that  he  only  dropped  in  on  his 


26  GIBBY  THE  EEL 

way  up  to  Bench  Seventeen  to  see  Balhaldie,  who  owed 
him  a  shilling. 

"  Well,  so  long ! "  Again  he  would  nod  pleasantly,  and 
sink  into  the  unknown  abyss  beneath  the  benches  as  noise- 
lessly and  unobtrusively  as  a  smile  fades  from  a  face. 

Sometimes,  however,  when  in  wanton  mood,  his  prog- 
ress Balhaidie-wards  could  be  guessed  at  by  the  chain  of 
"  Ouclis "  and  "  Ohs "  which  indicated  his  subterranean 
career.  The  suddenness  with  which  Gilbert  could 
awaken  to  lively  interest  the  most  somnolent  and  indif- 
ferent student,  by  means  of  a  long  brass  pin  in  the  calf 
of  the  leg,  had  to  be  felt  to  be  appreciated.  Thereupon 
ensued  the  sound  of  vigorous  kicking,  but  generally  by 
the  time  the  injured  got  the  range  of  his  unseen  foe, 
Gilbert  could  be  observed  two  or  three  forms  above 
intently  studying  a  Greek  Testament  wrong  side  up,  and 
looking  the  picture  of  meek  reproachful  innocence. 

In  no  class  could  Gilbert  use  so  much  freedom  of 
errancy  as  in  that  of  the  venerable  Professor  Galbraith. 
Every  afternoon  this  fine  old  gentleman  undertook  to 
direct  our  studies  in  New  Testament  exegesis,  and  inci- 
dentally afforded  his  students  an  hour  of  undisturbed 
repose  after  the  more  exciting  labours  of  the  day. 

No  one  who  ever  studied  under  Doctor  Simeon  Gal- 
braith will  forget  that  gentle  droning  voice  overhead, 
that  full-orbed  moon-like  countenance,  over  which  two 
smaller  moons  of  beamy  spectacle  seemed  to  be  in  per- 
petual transit,  and  in  especial  he  will  remember  that 
blessed  word  "  Hermeneutics,"  of  which  (it  is  said)  there 
was  once  one  student  who  could  remember  the  meaning. 
He  died  young,  much  respected  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Dreamily  the  great  word  came  to  you,  soothing  and 


GIBBY  THE  EEL  27 

grateful  as  mother's  lullaby,  recurrent  as  the  wash  of  a 
quiet  sea  upon  a  beach  of  softest  sand.  "  Gentlemen .  I 
will  now  proceed  to  call  your  attention  ...  to  the  study 
of  Hermeneutics  .  .  .  Hermeneut  .  .  .  Gegenbauer  has 
affirmed  .  .  .  but  in  my  opeenion,  gentlemen  .  .  .  Her- 
meneutics .  .  .  ! "  (Here  you  passed  from  the  sub- 
conscious state  into  Nirvana.) 

And  so  on,  and  so  on,  till  the  college  bell  clanged  in 
the  quadrangle,  and  it  was  time  to  file  out  for  a  wash 
and  brush-up  before  dinner  in  hall. 

Upon  one  afternoon  every  week,  Professor  Galbraith 
read  with  his  students  the  "  Greek  Oreeginal."  He 
prescribed  half-a-dozen  chapters  of  "  Romans  "  or  "  He- 
brews," and  expected  us  to  prepare  them  carefully.  I 
verily  believe  that  he  imagined  we  did.  This  shows 
what  a  sanguine  and  amiable  old  gentleman  he  was. 
The  beamy  spectacle  belied  him  not. 

The  fact  was  that  we  stumbled  through  our  portions 
by  the  light  of  nature,  aided  considerably  by  a  class  copy 
of  an  ingenious  work  known  by  the  name  of  "  Bagster," 
in  which  every  Greek  word  had  the  English  equivalent 
marked  in  plain  figures  underneath,  and  all  the  verbs 
fully  parsed  at  the  foot  of  the  page. 

The  use  of  this  was  not  considered  wicked,  because, 
like  the  early  Christians,  in  Professor  Galbraith's  class 
we  had  all  things  common.  This  was  our  one  point  of 
resemblance  to  the  primitive  Church. 

One  day  the  Doctor,  peering  over  his  brown  leather 
folio,  discerned  the  meek  face  and  beaming  smile  of 
Gilbert  the  Eel  in  the  centre  of  Bench  One,  immediately 
beneath  him. 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Denholm,  will  you  read  for  us  this  morning 


28  GIBBY  THE  EEL 

—  beginning  at  the  29th  verse  —  of  the  chapter  under 
consideration  ?  " 

And  he  subsided  expectantly  into  his  lecture. 

Up  rose  Gilbert,  signalling  wildly  with  one  hand  for 
the  class  "Bagster"  to  be  passed  to  him,  and  meantime 
grasping  at  the  first  Testament  he  could  see  about  him. 
By  the  time  he  had  read  the  Greek  of  half-a-dozen 
verses,  the  sharpness  of  the  trouble  was  overpast.  He 
held  in  his  hands  the  Key  of  Knowledge,  and  translated 
and  parsed  like  a  Cunningham  Fellow  —  or  any  other 
fellow. 

"  Vairy  well,  Mr.  Denholni  ;  vairy  well  indeed.  You 
may  now  sit  down  while  I  proceed  to  expound  the 
passage ! " 

Whereupon  Gibby  the  Eel  ungratefully  pitched  the 
faithful  "  Bagster  "  on  the  bench  and  disappeared  under 
the  same  himself  on  a  visit  to  Nicholson  McFeat,  who 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  class-room. 

For  five  minutes  —  ten  —  fifteen,  the  gentle  voice 
droned  on  from  the  rostrum,  the  word  "  Hermeneutics  " 
discharging  itself  at  intervals  with  the  pleasing  gurgle 
of  an  intermittent  spring.  Then  the  Professor  returned 
suddenly  to  his  Greek  Testament. 

"Mr.  Denholm,  you  construed  vairy  well  last  time. 
Be  good  enough  to  continue  at  the  place  you  left  off. 
Mr.  Denholm  —  where  is  Mister  —  Mister  Den  —  holm  ?  " 

And  the  moon-like  countenance  rose  from  its  eclipse 
behind  six  volumes  of  Owen  (folio  edition),  while  the 
two  smaller  moons  in  permanent  transit  directed  them- 
selves upon  the  vacant  place  in  Bench  One,  from  which 
Gibby  the  Eel  had  construed  so  glibly  with  the  efficient 
aid  of  "  Bagster." 


GIBBY   THE    EEL  29 

"Mister —  Mist  —  er  Denholm?  " 

The  Professor  knew  that  he  was  absent-minded,  bill 
the  expression  be  allowable)  he  could  have  sworn 

"  I  am  here,  sir !  " 

Gibby  the  Eel,  a  little  shamefaced  and  rumpled  as 
to  hair,  was  standing  plump  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
class-room,  in  the  place  where  he  had  been  endeavour- 
ing to  persuade  Nick  McFeat  to  lend  him  his  dress 
clothes  "to  go  to  a  conversazione  in,"  which  request 
Nick  cruelly  persisted  in  refusing,  alleging  first,  that 
he  needed  the  garments  himself,  and  secondly,  that  the 
Eel  desired  to  go  to  no  "  conversazione,"  but  contrari- 
wise to  take  a  certain  Madge  Robertson  to  the  theatre. 

At  this  moment  the  fateful  voice  of  the  Professor 
broke  in  upon  them  just  as  they  were  rising  to  the 
height  of  their  great  argument. 

"Mister  —  Den  —  holm,  will  you  go  on  where  you 
left  off  ?  " 

Gibby  rose,  signalling  wildly  for  "Bagster,"'  and 
endeavouring  to  look  as  if  he  had  been  a  plant  of 
grace  rooted  and  grounded  on  that  very  spot.  Pro- 
fessor Galbraith  gazed  at  Gibby  in  situ,  then  at  the 
place  formerly  occupied  by  him,  tried  hard  to  orient 
the  matter  in  his  head,  gave  it  up,  and  bade  the  trans- 
lation proceed. 

But  "  Bagster "  came  not,  and  Gilbert  did  not  dis- 
tinguish himself  this  time.     Indeed,  far  from  it. 

"Will  you  parse  the  first  verb,  Mr.  Denholm —  no, 
not  that  word!  That  has  usually  been  considered  a 
substantive,  Mr.  Denholm  —  the  next  word,  ah,  yes !  " 

"The  first  aorist,  active  of  —  confound  you  fellows, 
where's  that  'Bagster'  ?     I  call  it  (lushed  mean  —  yes,  sir, 


30  GIBBY  THE  EEL 

it  is  connected  with  the  former  clause  by  the  particle  — 
have  you  not  found  that  book  yet  ?     Oh,  you  beasts ! " 

(The  italics,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  were  also 
spoken  in  italics,  and  were  not  an  integral  part  of 
Gibby' s  examination  as  it  reached  the  ear  of  Professor 
Galbraith.) 

"  Ah,  that  will  do,  Mr.  Denholm  —  not  so  well  —  not 
quite  so  well,  sir  —  yet"  (kindly)  "not  so  vairy  ill 
either." 

And  Gilbert  sat  down  to  resume  the  discussion  of  the 
dress  clothes.  By  this  time,  of  course,  he  considered 
himself  quite  safe  from  further  molestation.  The  Pro- 
fessor had  never  been  known  to  call  up  a  man  thrice 
in  one  day.  So,  finding  Nick  McFeat  obdurate  in  the 
matter  of  the  dress  suit,  Gilbert  announced  his  intention 
of  visiting  Kenneth  Kennedy,  who,  he  said  pointedly, 
was  not  a  selfish  and  unclean  animal  of  the  kind  ab- 
horred by  Jews,  but,  contrariwise,  a  gentleman  —  one 
who  would  lend  dress  clothes  for  the  asking.  And 
Kennedy's  were  better  clothes,  anyway,  and  had  silk 
linings.  Furthermore,  Nick  need  not  think  it,  he  (Mr. 
Gilbert  Denholm)  would  not  demean  himself  to  put  on 
his  (Mr.  McFeat's)  dirty  "blacks,"  which  had  been 
feloniously  filched  from  a  last  year's  scarecrow  that  had 
been  left  out  all  the  winter.  And  furthermore,  he  (the 
said  Gilbert)  would  take  Madge  Kobertson  to  the  theatre 
in  spite  of  him,  and  what  was  more,  cut  Nick  McFeat 
out  as  clean  as  a  leek. 

At  this  the  latter  laughed  scornfully,  affirming  that 
the  grapes  had  a  faintly  sub-acid  flavour,  and  bade 
Gibby  go  his  way. 

Gibby  went,  tortuously  and  subterraneously  worming 


GIBBY   THE    EEL  » 

his  way  to  the  highest  seats  in  the  synagogue,   wh 
Kenneth  Kennedy,  M.A.,  reposed  at  full  length  upon  a 

vacant  seat,  having  artistically  bent  a  Eighland  cloak 
over  a  walking-stick  to  represent  scholastic  meditation, 

if  perchance  the  kindly  spectacle  of  the  Professor  should 
turn  in  his  direction  Gibby  gazed  rapturously  on  hi 
friend's  sleep,  contemplating  him,  as  once  in  the  Latmian 
cave  Diana  gazed  upon  Endymion.  He  was  proceeding 
to  ink  his  friend's  face  preparatory  to  upsetting  him  on 
the  floor,  when  he  remembered  the  dress  suit  just  in 
time  to  desist. 

"  Eel,  you  are  a  most  infamous  pest  —  can't  you  let 
a  fellow  alone  ?     What  in  the  world  do  you  want  now  ?  " 

Whereupon,  with  countenance  of  triple  brass,  Gibby 
entered  into  the  question  of  the  dress  suit  with  subtlety 
and  tact.  There  never  was  so  good  a  chap  as  Kennedy, 
never  one  so  generous.  He  (Gr.D.)  would  do  as  much 
for  him  again,  and  he  would  bring  it  back  the  next  day, 
pressed  by  a  tailor. 

Kennedy,  however,  was  not  quite  so  enthusiastic. 
There  are  several  points  of  view  in  matters  of  this  kind. 
Kenneth  Kennedy  did  not,  of  course,  care  "a  dump" 
about  Madge  Kobertson,  but  he  had  the  best  interests  of 
his  silk-lined  dress  coat  at  heart. 

"That's  all  very  well,  Eel,"  he  said,  raising  himself 
reluctantly  to  the  perpendicular;  "but  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  the  last  time  I  lent  it  to  you,  you  let  some 
wax  drop  on  the  waistcoat,  right  on  the  pockei,  and  I 
have  never  been  able  to  get  it  out  since " 

Suddenly  the   pair  became  conscious  that   the  gentle 
hum  of  exegetical  divinity  from  the  rostrum  had  ceas 
The  word  "  Hermeneutics  "  no  longer  soothed  and  punc- 


32  GIBBY   THE  EEL 

tuated  their  converse  at  intervals  of  five  minutes,  like 
the  look-out's  "All's  -well"  on  a  ship  at  sea. 

"  Ah,  Mis  —  ter  Den  — ■  holm,  perhaps  you  have  recov- 
ered yourself  by  this  time.  Be  good  enough  to  continue 
where  you  left  off  —  Mis  —  ter  Den  —  holm  —  Mister 
Denholm  —  where  in  the  world  is  Mr.  Denholm  ?  " 

The  spectacles  were  hardly  beaming  now.  A  cer- 
tain shrewd  suspicion  mixed  with  the  wonder  in  their 
expression,  as  Dr.  Galbraith  gazed  from  the  Eel's  posi- 
tion One  to  position  Two,  and  back  again  to  position 
One.  Both  were  empty  as  the  cloudless  empyrean. 
His  wonder  culminated  when  Gilbert  was  finally  dis- 
covered in  position  Three,  high  on  the  sky-line  of 
Bench  Twenty -four! 

How  Gilbert  acquitted  himself  on  this  occasion  it  is 
perhaps  better  not  to  relate.  I  will  draw  a  kindly  veil 
over  the  lamentable  tragedy.  It  is  sufficient  to  say 
that  he  lost  his  head  completely  —  as  completely  even  as 
the  aforesaid  Miss  Madge  Kobertson  could  have  wished. 

And  all  through  the  disastrous  exhibition  the  Pro- 
fessor did  not  withdraw  his  gaze  from  the  wretched 
Eel,  but  continued  to  rebuke  him,  as  it  seemed,  for 
the  astral  and  insubstantial  nature  of  his  body. 

No  better  proof  can  be  adduced  that  the  Eel  had 
become  temporarily  deranged,  than  the  fact  that  even 
now,  when  it  was  obvious  that  the  long-latent  sus- 
picions of  the  Gentle  Hermeneut  were  at  last  aroused, 
he  refused  to  abide  in  his  breaches ;  but,  scorning  all 
entreaty,  and  even  Kennedy's  unconditioned  promise  of 
the  dress  suit,  he  proceeded  to  crawl  down  the  gallery 
steps  in  order  to  regain  position  Number  One  in  the 
front  seat  under  the  Professor's  very  nose. 


GIBBY    Till:    EEL  33 

Quos  Deus  vult  perdere,  prius  derm  ntat. 

Meanwhile   the   class,   at    first   raised    to   a   state   of 
ecstatic  enjoyment  by  the  Eel's  misfortunes,  then  gr 
ing  a  little  anxious  lest  he  should  go  too  fax,  gain 

subsiding  to  its  -wonted   peaceful   hum,   like  that  of   a 
vast  and  well-contented  bumblebee. 

Suddenly  we  became  aware  that  the  Professor  was  on 
his  feet  in  the  midst  of  a  stern  and  awful  silence. 

••  My  eye  has  fallen,"  he  be^an  solemnly,  "on  what 
I  do  not  expect  to  see.  I  hope  the  —  gentleman  will 
remember  where  he  is  —  and  who  I  am!" 

During  the  pronouncement  of  this  awful  allocntion 
the  professorial  arm  was  extended,  and  a  finger,  steady 
as  the  finger  of  Fate,  pointed  directly  at  the  unhappy 
Gibby,  who,  prone  in  the  dust,  appeared  to  be  medi- 
tating a  discourse  upon  the  text,  "  I  am  a  worm  and 
no  man ! " 

His  head  was  almost  on  the  level  of  the  floor  and 
his  limbs  extended  far  up  the  gallery  stairs.  To  say 
that  his  face  was  fiery  red  gives  but  a  faint  idea  of 
its  colour,  while  a  black  streak  upon  his  nose  proved 
that  the  charwomen  of  the  college  were  not  a  whit 
more  diligent  than  the  students  thereof. 

What  happened  after  this  is  a  kind  of  maze.  I  sup- 
pose that  Gibby  regained  a  seat  somewhere,  and  that 
the  lecture  proceeded  after  a  fashion;  but  I  do  not 
know  for  certain.  Bursts  of  unholy  mirth  forced  their 
way  through  the  best  linen  handkerchiefs,  rolled  hard 
and  used  as  gags. 

But  there  grew  up  a  feeling  among  many  that  though 
doubtless  there  was  humour  in  the  case,  the  Eel  had 
gone  a  little  too  far,  and   if   Professor  Galbraith  were 


34  GIBBY  THE  EEL 

genuinely  angered  lie  might  bring  the  matter  before 
the  Senatus,  with  the  result  that  Gilbert  would  not 
only  lose  his  bursary,  but  be  sent  down  as  well,  to  his 
father's  sorrow  and  his  own  ]oss. 

So  when  the  class  was  at  last  over,  half-a-dozen  of  us 
gathered  round  Gibby  and  represented  to  him  that  he 
must  go  at  once  to  the  retiring-room  and  ask  the  Pro- 
fessor's pardon. 

At  first  and  for  long  the  Eel  was  recalcitrant.  He 
would  not  go.  What  was  he  to  say?  We  instructed 
him.  We  used  argument,  appeal,  persuasion.  We 
threatened  torture.  Finally,  yielding  to  those  heavier 
battalions  on  the  side  of  which  Providence  is  said  to 
fight,  Gibby  was  led  to  the  door  with  a  captor  at  each 
elbow.  We  knocked;  he  entered.  The  door  was  shut 
behind  him,  but  not  wholly.  Half-a-dozen  ears  lined 
the  crack  at  intervals,  like  limpets  clinging  to  a  smooth 
streak  on  a  tidal  rock.  We  could  not  hear  the  Eel's 
words.  Only  a  vague  murmur  reached  us,  and  I  doubt 
if  much  more  reached  Professor  Galbraith.  The  Eel 
stopped  and  there  was  a  pause.     We  feared  its  ill  omen. 

"  Poor  Eel,  the  old  man's  going  to  report  him ! "  we 
whispered  to  each  other. 

And  then  we  heard  the  words  of  the  Angelical 
Scholiast. 

"  Shake  hands,  Mr.  Denholm.  If,  as  ye  say,  this 
has  been  a  lesson  to  you,  it  has  been  no  less  a  lesson 
to  me.  Let  us  both  endeavour  to  profit  by  it,  unto  greater 
diligence  and  seemliness  in  our  walk  and  conversation. 
We  will  say  no  more  about  the  matter,  if  you  please, 
Mr.  Denholm." 


GIBBY   THE    EEL  36 

We  cheered  the  old  man  as  he  went  out,  til]  he 
waved  a  kindly  and  tolerant  hand  back  al  us,  and  il 
•was  more  than  a  id '-a  I'!  of  humour  in  the  kindly  specta- 
cles, as  if  our  gentle  Hermeneui  were  aeithei  so  blind 
nor  yet  so  dull  in  the  uptake  as  we  Lad  been  accustomed 
to  think  him. 

As  for  the  Eel,  he  became  a  man  from  that  day,  and, 
to  a  limited  extent,  put  away  childish  things  —  though 
his  heart  will  remain  ever  young  and  fresh.  His  gtorj 
is  another  story,  and  so  far  as  this  little  study  gees  it 
is  enough  to  say  that  when  at  last  the  aged  Professor 
of  Hermeneutics  passed  to  the  region  where  all  things 
are  to  be  finally  explicated,  it  was  Gilbert  Denholm  who 
got  up  the  memorial  to  his  memory,  which  was  sub- 
scribed to  by  every  student  without  exception  he  had 
ever  had.  And  it  was  he  who  wrote  Dr.  Galbraith's 
epitaph,  of  which  the  last  line  runs : 

"Gentle,  a  Peace-ma  kkk,  a  Loveb  of  Good  and 
of  God." 


DOCTOR   GIRNIGO'S   ASSISTANT 

"  Off,  ye  lendings ! "  said  Gibby  the  Eel  to  his 
heather-mixture  knickerbocker  suit,  on  the  day  when 
his  Presbytery  of  Muirlands  licensed  hizn  to  preach  the 
gospel. 

And  within  the  self-same  hour  the  Reverend  Gilbert 
Denholm,  M.A.,  Probationer,  in  correct  ministerial  garb, 
had  the  honour  of  dining  with  the  Presbytery,  and  of 
witnessing  the  remarkable  transformation  which  over- 
takes that  august  body  as  soon  as  it  dips  its  collective 
spoon  in  the  official  soup. 

I  knew  a  Presbytery  once  which  tried  to  lunch  on 
cold  coffee  and  new  bread.  The  survivors  unanimously 
took  to  drink. 

But  the  Presbytery  of  Muirlands  were  sage  fathers 
and  brethren,  and  they  knew  better  than  that.  They 
dined  together  in  a  reasonable  manner  at  the  principal 
inn  of  the  place.  An  enthusiast,  who  suggested  that 
they  should  transfer  their  custom  to  the  new  Tem- 
perance Hotel  up  near  the  railway  station,  was  asked 
if  he  had  sent  in  his  returns  on  Life  and  Work  —  and 
otherwise  severely  dealt  with. 

Gilbert  had  been  remitted  to  the  Presbytery  of  Muir- 
lands from  his  own  West  Country  one  of  Burnestown, 
because  he  had  been  appointed  assistant  to  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Girnigo  of  Rescobie ;  and  it  was  considered  more 
satisfactory  that  the   Presbytery  within  whose   bounds 

36 


DOCTOR   GliiNIGO'S    ASSISTANT  37 

lie  was  to  labour,  should  examine  him  concerning   his 

diligence  and  zeal. 

So  they  asked  him  all  the  old  posers  which  had  made 
the  teeth  of  former  examinees  of  the  Presbytery  of 
Muirlands  chatter  in  their  heads.  But  the  Eel's  teeth 
did  not  chatter.  He  had  got  a  rough  list  from  a  friend 
who  had  been  that  way  before,  and  so  passed  the  bar 
with  flying  colours.  The  modest  way  in  which  the  new 
brother  (unattached)  behaved  himself  at  (Tinner  com- 
pleted Gibby's  conquest  of  the  Brethren  —  with  the 
single  but  somewhat  important  exception  of  the  Rev- 
erend Doctor  Joseph  Girnigo  of  Rescobie,  Gilbert's 
future  chief. 

It  was  the  cross  of  Dr.  Girnigo' s  life  that  his  Session 
compelled  him  to  engage  an  assistant.  Dr.  Girnigo 
felt  that  here  were  three  hundred  pieces  of  silver  (or 
more  accurately,  £60  sterling)  which  ought  to  have  been 
given  to  the  poor  —  that  is,  to  the  right  breeches'  pocket 
of  Joseph  Girnigo  —  instead  of  being  squandered  in 
providing  such  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  within  the  parish 
as  a  licensed  assistant. 

Dr.  Girnigo  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,  whenever  he 
had  made  it  too  hot  for  his  acting  assistant,  that  he 
would  rather  look  after  three  parishes  than  one  proba- 
tioner. At  first  the  engaging  and  dismission  of  these 
unfortunate  young  men  had  been  placed  unreservedly 
in  the  Doctor's  hands;  but  as  the  affair  assumed  more 
and  more  the  appearance  and  proportions  of  a  mere 
procession  to  and  from  the  railway  station,  the  members 
of  Session  were  compelled  to  assume  the  responsibility 
themselves.  So  long  as  the  Doctor's  sway  continued 
unchallenged,  the  new  assistant  usually  arrived  in  Netln  r 


38  DOCTOR   GIRNIGO'S  ASSISTANT 

Balhaldie's  "  machine  "  on  Saturday  night,  and  departed 
on  Tuesday  morning  very  early  in  the  gig  belonging  to 
Upper  Balhaldie.  He  preached  on  Sabbath,  and  Monday 
was  spent  in  Dr.  Girnigo's  study,  where  it  was  explained 
to  him :  first,  that  he  knew  nothing ;  secondly,  that  what 
he  thought  he  knew  was  worse  than  nothing;  thirdly, 
that  there  is  nothing  more  hateful  than  a  vain  pretence 
of  earthly  learning;  and  fourthly,  that  Paul  and  Silas 
knew  nothing  of  "  Creeticism."  No,  they  were  better 
employed  —  aye,  and  it  would  be  telling  the  young  men 
of  the  day  —  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  being 
that  the  present  victim  would,  never  do  at  all  for  the 
parish  of  Rescobie  and  had  better  go. 

He  went,  in  Upper  Balhaldie's  gig,  and  Watty  Lear- 
mont,  the  tenant  thereof,  who  could  be  trusted  to  know, 
said  that  the  rejected  probationers  very  seldom  engaged 
in  prayer  (to  call  prayer)  on  the  road  to  the  station.  I 
do  not  know  what  Watty  meant  to  insinuate,  but  that  is 
what  he  said.  He  had  that  mode  of  speech  to  perfection 
which  consists  in  saying  one  thing  and  giving  the  im- 
pression that  the  speaker  means  another. 

But  it  was  felt  that  this  was  a  state  of  affairs  which 
could  not  continue.  It  amounted,  indeed,  to  nothing  less 
than  a  scandal  that  the  Session  should  be  paying  £60 
for  an  assistant,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  eight  of 
these  should  only  have  spent  exactly  twenty-seven  days 
in  the  parish,  while  the  remaining  three  hundred  and 
thirty-eight  days  had  been  occupied  by  the  Doctor  in 
filling  the  vacancies  he  had  himself  created.  Besides, 
since  he  always  insisted  on  a  week's  trial  without  salary 
when  he  engaged  his  man  (in  order,  as  he  said,  to  dis- 
cover where  there  was  a  likelihood  of  the  parties  being 


DOCTOR   GIRNIGOS    ASSISTANT 

mutually  satisfied),  the  shrewd  business  men  of  the 
Session  saw  more  than  a  probability  of  their  good  and 
hardly  gathered  sixty  "notes"  still  remaining  intact  in 
the  possession  of  their  minister. 

It  was,  however,  the  affair  of  the  prayer-inet 4 
which  brought  the  matter  to  a  head.  For  after  all,  such 
hard-headed  bargain-makers  as  Learmont,  Senior  of  Bal- 
haldie,  and  his  coadjutors  on  the  Session,  could  not  help 
1  laving  a  sort  of  respect  for  the  Doctor's  business  quali- 
ties. But  they  could  not  bear  to  be  made  a  laughing- 
stock of  in  the  market  of  Drumfern. 

"  What's  this  I  hear  aboot  your  new  helper's  prayer- 
meetin'  up  at  Rescobie  ?  "  Cochrane  of  Tatierigs  cried 
one  Wednesday  across  the  mart  ring  to  Upper  Balhaldie. 
"  Is't  true  that  that  minister  o'  yours  broke  it  up  wi'  a 
horse-whup  ?  " 

No,  it  was  not  true.  But  there  was  enough  of  truth 
in  it  to  make  the  members  of  Rescobie  Session  nervous 
of  public  appearances  for  a  long  time,  indeed  till  the 
affair  was  forgotten. 

The  truth  was  that  during  the  Doctor's  absence  at  the 
house  of  his  married  son  in  Drumfern,  Mr.  Killigrew,  a 
soft-voiced  young  man,  who,  being  exceedingly  meek, 
had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  parish,  thought  it  would 
be  a  surprise  for  his  chief  if  he  started  a  prayer-meeting 
on  Wednesday  evenings  in  the  village  schoolhouse.  He 
pictured  to  himself  his  principal's  delight  when  he 
should  hand  over  the  new  departure  as  a  going  concern. 
So  he  made  a  house-to-house  visitation  of  Rescobie 
village  and  neighbourhood,  this  young  man  with  the 
soft  voice.  The  popular  appeal  was  favourable.  He 
went  round  and  saw  the  school-mistress.     She  was  fond 


40  DOCTOit   GIRNIGO'S  ASSISTANT 

of  young  men  with  soft  voices  (and  hats).  She  readily 
consented  to  lend  her  harmonium,  and  to  lead  the  sing- 
ing from  a  certain  popular  hymn-book. 

The  first  meeting  was  an  unqualified  success,  and  the 
young  man  promptly  began  a  series  of  rousing  addresses 
on  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  There  were  to  be  thirty 
in  all.  But  alas  for  the  vanity  of  human  schemes,  the 
second  address  (on  the  Slough  of  Despond)  was  scarcely 
under  way  when,  like  an  avenging  host,  or  Cromwell 
entering  the  Long  Parliament,  the  Doctor  strode  into 
the  midst,  booted  and  spurred,  as  he  had  ridden  over 
all  the  way  from  Drumfern.  He  had  a  riding-whip 
in  his  hand,  which  was  the  foundation  of  the  Tatierigs 
story,  but  there  is  no  record  that  he  used  it  on  any  in 
the  meeting. 

The  services  closed  without  the  benediction,  and  as 
the  Doctor  wrathfully  clicked  the  key  in  the  lock,  he 
said  that  he  would  see  the  school-mistress  in  the 
morning. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  young  man  in  the  soft  hat. 
The  remains  left  Eescobie  early  next  morning  in  Upper 
Balhaldie's  gig. 

Since  this  date  it  was  enough  to  call  out  to  a  Rescobie 
man,  "  Ony  mair  Pilgrims  up  your  way  ?  "  in  order  to 
have  him  set  his  dogs  on  you  or  wrathfully  bring  down 
his  herd's  crook  upon  your  crown. 

Being  thus  stirred  to  action,  the  Session  wrestled  with 
Dr.  Girnigo,  and  prevailing  by  the  unanswerable  argu- 
ment of  the  purse-strings,  it  took  the  appointment  and 
dismission  of  the  "  helpers  "  into  its  own  hands. 

So  Dr.  Girnigo  had  to  try  other  tactics.  Usually  he 
gave  the  unfortunate  "  helper "  delivered  into  his  hands 


DOCTOB   GIRNIGO'S   assistan  i  ii 

no  peace  night   or  day,  till   in  <l«*sj»:iir  1m-  threw  up  his 
appointment,  and  shook  the  Rescobie  dusl  off  the  Bolea 

of  his  feet. 

First  (under  the  new  regime)  came  Alexander   Pair- 
body,  a  thoughtful,  studious  lad,  whom  the  Doctor  set 
•  fp-dressing  into  his  garden  till  his  hands 

wire  blistered.  He  would  not  allow  him  to  preach, 
and  as  to  praying,  it'  he  wanted  to  do  that  he  could 
go  to  his  bedroom.  So  Mr.  Fairbody  endured  hardni 
for  ten  days,  and  then  resigned  in  a  written  communi- 
cation, alleging  as  a  reason  that  he  had  come  to  Rescobie 
to  work  in  a  spiritual  and  not  in  a  material  vineyard. 
The  Doctor  burked  the  document,  and  the  Reverend 
Robert  Begg  reigned  in  the  stead  of  Alexander  Fairbody, 
resigned  for  cause. 

Mr.  Begg  was  athletic.  Him  Dr.  Girnigo  set  to  the 
work  of  arranging  his  old  sermons,  seven  barrels  full. 
He  was  to  catalogue  them  under  eighteen  heads,  and  be 
prepared  to  give  his  reasons  in  every  case.  The  first 
three  classes  were  —  "  Sermons  Enforcing  the  Duty  of 
Respect  for  Ecclesiastical  Superiors,"  "  Sermons  upon 
Christian  Giving,"  and  "  Sermons  Inculcating  Humility 
in  the  Young."  The  Reverend  Robert  Begg  would  have 
enjoyed  the  digging  of  the  garden.  He  stood  just  one 
full  week  of  the  sermon-arranging.  He  declared  that 
sixteen  of  the  eighteen  classes  were  cross  divisions,  and 
that  the  task  of  looking  through  the  written  matter  per- 
manently enfeebled  his  intellect.  Sympathetic  friends 
consoled  him  with  the  reflection  that  nobody  would 
ever  find  out. 

On  the  second  Wednesday  after  his  appointment  he 
departed,    uttering    sentiments   which    were    a    perfect 


42  DOCTOR   GIRNIGO'S  ASSISTANT 

guarantee  of  good  faith  (but  which  were  manifestly 
not  for  publication)  to  Watty  Learmont  as  he  journeyed 
to  the  railway  station  in  the  Upper  Balhaldie  gig. 

A  new  sun  rose  upon  Rescobie  with  the  coming  of 
Gibby  the  Eel.  He  had  known  both  of  his  predeces- 
sors at  college,  and  he  had  pumped  them  thoroughly 
upon  the  life  and  doctrine  of  their  former  chief.  In 
addition  to  which  Gilbert  had  taken  to  him  a  suit  of 
tweeds  and  a  fishing-rod,  and  with  a  piece  of  bread 
and  cheese  in  his  pocket,  and  guile  in  his  heart,  he 
had  gone  up  the  Rescobie  water,  asking  for  drinks  at 
the  farmhouses  on  the  way,  much  as  he  used  to  per- 
ambulate Professor  Galbraitlrs  class-room  in  his  old, 
abandoned,  unregenerate,  sans-dog-collar  days. 

Hitherto  the  helper,  a  mere  transient  bird-of-passage, 
had  lodged  with  Mistress  Honeytongue,  the  wife  of 
Hosea  Honeytongue,  the  beadle  and  minister's  man  of 
Rescobie.  This  brought  the  youth,  as  it  were,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  manse,  and  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  under  the  eye  of  the  minister.  But  Gilbert  Den- 
holm  had  other  aims. 

He  took  rooms  in  the  village,  quite  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  from  the  manse,  with  one  Mrs.  Tennant,  the 
widow  of  a  medical  man  in  the  neighbourhood  who 
had  died  without  making  adequate  provision  for  his 
family.  She  had  never  taken  a  lodger  before,  but  since 
his  investiture  in  clericals  the  Eel  had  filled  out  to  - 
a  handsome  figure,  and  he  certainly  smiled  a  most  irre- 
sistible smile  as  he  stood  on  the  doorstep. 

Gilbert  arrived  late  one  Friday  night  in  Rescobie, 
and  speculation  was  rife  in  the  parish  as  to  whether 
he  would  preach  on  Sabbath  or  not.     Most  were  of  the 


DOCTOR  giknm;i>"s  assistant         ls 

negative  opinion,  hut  Watty  Learmont,  for  reasons  of 
his  own,  offered  to  wager  a  new  hat  that  he  would. 

On  Saturday  morning  Gilbert  put  on  his  longest  tails 
and  his  doggiest  collar  and  marched    boldly  up  to  the 

front  door  of  the  manse,  with  tin-  general  air  of  play- 
ing himself  along  bhe  road  upon  war  pipes.  Perhaps, 
hov.  he    was    only  whistling    silently   to   keep    his 

courage  up. 

"  Is  Miss  Girnigo  at  home  ?  "  said  he  to  the  some- 
what stern-visaged   personage  who  opened  the  door. 

"/am  Miss  Girnigo,"  said  a  sepulchral  voice.  (Miss 
Girnigo  was  suffering  from  the  summer  cold  which 
used  to  be  called  a  "hay  fever.") 

"Indeed  —  I  might  have  known;  how  delightful!" 
said  the  Eel,  now,  alas !  transformed  into  an  old  ser- 
pent ;  "  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  at  home ! " 

"  I  am  always  at  home ! "  returned  Miss  Girnigo, 
keeping  up  a  semblance  of  severity,  but  secretly  mollified 
by  the  homage  of  Gibby's  smile. 

"Then  I  hope  you  will  let  me  come  here  very  often. 
I  shall  find  it  lonely  in  the  village,  but  I  thought  it 
better  to  be  near  my  work,"  said  Gilbert;  "  I  am  staying 
with  Mrs.  Tennant,  the  doctor's  widow.  Do  you  know 
Mrs.  Tennant?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Miss  Girnigo,  smiling  for  the  first 
time ;  "  she  is  one  of  my  dearest  friends.  I  often  go 
there  to  tea." 

"  I  love  tea,"  said  Gilbert,  with  enthusiasm ;  "  Mrs. 
Tennant  has  invited  me  to  take  tea  in  her  parlour  in  the 
afternoon  as  often  as  I  like,  but  I  was  not  expecting 
such  a  reward  as  this ! " 

Miss  Girnigo  was  considerably  over  forty,  but  she  was 


44  DOCTOR   GIRNIGO'S   ASSISTANT 

even  more  than  youthfully  amenable  to  flattery  and  to 
the  Eel's  beaming  and  boyish  face. 

"  You  are  the  new  assistant,"  she  said,  "  Mister  — 
ah !" 

"  Denholm !  "  said  Gilbert,  smiling ;  "  it  is  a  nice  name. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought  anything  about  the  matter,"  said 
Miss  Girnigo,  bridling,  yet  with  the  ghost  of  a  blush. 
"  I  do  not  charge  my  mind  with  such  things.  Have  you 
come  to  see  my  father  ?  " 

"Yes,  after  a  while.  But  just  at  present  I  would 
rather  see  your  plants !  "  said  the  Serpent,  who  had 
been  well  coached.  (No  wonder  Watty  Learmont  smiled 
when  he  asserted  that  the  New  Man  would  preach  on 
Sunday.) 

Now  Miss  Girnigo  lived  chiefly  for  her  flowers.  The 
Serpent  had  a  list  of  them,  roughly  but  accurately  com- 
piled from  the  lady's  seed-merchant's  ledger  by  a  friend 
in  the  business.  He  had  also  a  fund  of  information 
respecting  "  plants,"  very  recently  acquired,  on  his  mind. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  fond  of  flowers  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Girnigo. 

"  Could  any  one  doubt  it  ?  "  cried  Gilbert,  with  enthu- 
siasm.    "  Who  was  the  Jo "  (he  was  on  the  point 

of  saying  "Johnny")  "g  —  gentleman  of  whom  it  was 
said :  '  If  you  want  to  see  his  monument,  look  around ' 
—  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  wasn't  it  ?  Well,  I  looked 
around  as  I  came  up  the  street !  " 

And  Gilbert  took  in  the  whole  front  of  the  manse 
with  his  glance.  It  certainly  was  very  pretty,  covered 
from  top  to  bottom  with  rambler  roses  and  Virginia  cress. 

Gilbert  entered,  and  as  they  passed  in  front  of  the  min- 


DOCTOE   GIRNIGO'S   assistant  \r, 

ister's  study  door  .Miss  Girnigo  almost  skittishly  made  a 
sign  for  silence,  and  Gilbert  tiptoed  past  with  an  exag- 
geration of  caution  which  made  his  companion  laugh. 
They  found  themselves  presently  in  the  drawing-room, 
-where  again  the  flower-pots  were  everywhere,  but  spe- 
'i  illy  banked  round  the  oriel  window.  Gilbert  named 
them  one  after  the  other  like  children  at  a  baptism,  with 
a  sort  of  easy  certainty  and  familiarity.  His  friend  the 
nurseryman's  clerk  had  not  failed  him.  Miss  Girnigo 
was  delight 

•■  Well,"  she  said,  "  it  is  pleasant  to  have  some  one 
who  knows  Ceterach  Officinarum  from  a  kail-stock.  We 
shall  go  botanising  together  ! " 

"Ye-es,"  said  Gilbert,  a  little  uncertainly,  and  with 
less  enthusiasm  than  might  have  been  expected. 

"  Good  heavens,"  he  was  saying,  "  how  shall  I  grind  up 
the  beastly  thing  ir  I  have  to  live  up  to  all  this  ?  " 

But  Miss  Girnigo  was  in  high  good-humour,  though 
her  pleasure  was  sadly  marred  by  the  incipient  cold  in 
her  head,  which  she  was  conscious  prevented  her  from 
doing  herself  justice.  At  forty,  eyes  that  water  and  a 
nose  tipped  with  pink  do  not  make  for  maiden  beauty. 

"I  have  a  dreadful  cold  coming  on,  Mr.  Denholm," 
she  said;  "I  really  am  not  fit  to  be  seen.  I  wonder 
what  I  was  thinking  of  to  ask  you  in !  " 

"Try  this,"  said  Gilbert,  pulling  a  kind  of  india- 
rubber  puff-ball  out  of  his  pocket;  "it  is  quite  good. 
It  makes  you  sneeze  like  the  very  —  ahem  —  like  any- 
thing. Stops  a  cold  in  no  time  —  won't  be  happy  till 
you  get  it !  " 

"  I  don't  dare  to  —  how  does  it  work  ? "  demurred 
Miss  Girnigo. 


46  DOCTOR  GIRNIGO'S  ASSISTANT 

Gilbert  illustrated,  and  began  to  sneeze  promptly,  as 
the  snuff  titillated  his  air  passages. 

"Now  you  try  !  "  he  said,  and  smiled. 

Gilbert  held  it  insinuatingly  to  the  lady's  nostrils  and 
pumped  vigorously. 

"  A-tish  —  shoo  ! "  remarked  the  lady,  as  if  he  had 
touched  a  spring. 

"  A-tish  —  shoo-oo-ooh ! "  replied  Gilbert. 

After  that  they  responded  antiphonally,  like  Alp 
answering  Alp,  till  the  door  opened  and  Dr.  Girnigo 
appeared  with  a  half-written  sheet  of  sermon  paper  in 
his  hand. 

The  guilty  pair  stood  rooted  to  the  ground  —  at  least, 
spasmodically  so,  for  every  other  moment  a  sneeze  lifted 
one  of  them  upon  tiptoe. 

"  What  is  this,  Arabella,  what  is  this  ?  What  is  this 
young  man  doing  here  ?  " 

"Don't  be  —  a-tish  —  go  —  stupid,  papa!  You  know 
very  well  —  shoo  —  it  is  Mr.  Denholm,  the  new  Assist  — 
aroo ! " 

"  Sir ! "  said  Dr.  Girnigo,  turning  upon  his  junior  and 
angrily  stamping  his  foot. 

Gilbert  held  out  his  hand,  and  as  the  Doctor  did  not 
take  it  he  waggled  it  feebly  in  the  air  with  a  sort  of 
impotent  good-fellowship. 

"All  right,"  he  said;  "better  presently — only  c-curing 
Miss  —  Miss  Girni  —  goo-ahoo  —  arish-chee-hoo  —  of  a 
cold!" 

"  I  do  not  know  any  one  of  that  name,  sir ! "  thun- 
dered the  Doctor,  not  wholly  unreasonably. 

"  No  ?  "  said  Gilbert,  anxiously ;  "  I  understood  that 
this  —  a-tishoo  —  lady  was  Miss  Girnigo,  though  I  thought 


DOCTOll   GIKXIGn'S    ASSISTANT  47 

she  was  too  young  for  a  daughter  —  your  granddaughter, 
perhaps,  Doctor  ?  " 

And  the  smile  once  more  took  in  Miss  Girnigo  as  if 
she  had  been  a  beautiful  picture. 

By  this  time  Miss  Girnigo  had  somewhat  recovered. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  sharply,  "Mr.  Denholm  is  going  to 
be  such  an  acquisition.  He  is  a  botanist — a  Fellow 
of  the  Linnsean  Society,  I  understand " 

"Of  Pittenweem."  muttered  Gilbert  between  his  teeth. 

"And  he  is  going  to  preach  on  Sunday.  You  have 
had  a  lot  to  worry  you  this  week  and  need  a  rest. 
Besides,  your  best  shirts  are  not  ironed  —  not  dr. 
indeed.     The  weather  has  been  so  bad !  " 

"I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  preach  on  Sabbath 
myself,"  said  Dr.  Girnigo,  who,  though  a  tyrant  un- 
tamed without,  was  held  in  considerable  subjection  to 
the  higher  power  within  the  bounds  of  his  own  house. 

"Nonsense,  papa  —  I  will  not  allow  you  to  think  of 
such  a  thing!"  cried  Miss  Girnigo.  "Besides,  Mr. 
Denholm  is  coming  to  supper  to-night,  and  we  will 
talk  botany  all  the  time ! " 

****** 

Which  was  why  the  Eel,  falling  off  his  bicycle  at 
1.45  P.M.  that  same  day  in  front  of  my  house  in  Cairn 
Edward  (sixteen  miles  away),  burst  into  my  consult- 
ing-room with  the  following  demand,  proclaimed  in 
frenzied  accents :  "  Lend  me  your  Bentley's  Botany,  or 
something  —  not  that  beastly  jaw-breaking  German  thing 
you  are  so  fond  of,  but  something  plain  and  easy,  with 
the  names  of  all  the  plants  in.  I  have  the  whole  thing 
to  get  up  by  eight  o'clock  to-night,  and  I'll  eat  my 
head  if  I  can  remember  what  a  cotyledon  is  I  " 


48  DOCTOR   GIRNIGO'S   ASSISTANT 

It  is  believed  that  on  the  way  back  the  Eel  studied 
Bentley,  cunningly  adjusted  on  the  handle-bar,  with 
loops  of  string  to  keep  the  pages  from  fluttering.  (He 
was  a  trick-rider  of  repute.)  At  any  rate,  he  did  not 
waste  his  time,  and  arrived  at  the  manse  so  full  of 
botanical  terms  that  he  had  considerable  difficulty  in 
making  himself  intelligible  to  the  maid,  who  on  this 
occasion,  being  cleaned  up,  opened  the  door  to  him  in 
state. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  taming  of  the  tiger. 
Gilbert  preached  the  next  forenoon,  and  pleased  the 
Doctor  greatly  by  the  excellent  taste  of  his  opening 
remarks  upon  his  text>  which  was,  "To  preach  the 
gospel  .  .  .  and  not  to  boast  in  another  man's  line  of 
things  made  ready  to  our  hand." 

The  preacher,  as  a  new  and  original  departure,  divided 
his  subject  into  three  heads,  as  followeth:  First,  "The 
Duty  of  Respect  for  Ecclesiastical  Superiors ; "  second, 
"  The  Duty  of  Christian  Liberality "  (he  had  to  drag 
this  in  neck  and  crop) ;  and  thirdly,  "  The  Supreme 
Duty  of  Humility  in  the  Young  with  respect  to  their 
Elders." 

While  he  was  looking  it  over  on  Sunday  morning 
Gilbert  heartily  confounded  his  friend  Begg  for  for- 
getting the  other  fifteen  divisions  of  Dr.  Girnigo's 
sermons. 

"I  could  have  made  a  much  better  appearance  if 
that  fellow  Begg  had  had  any  sense !  "  he  said  to  him- 
self. "But"  (with  a  sigh)  "I  must  just  do  the  best 
I  can  with  these." 

Nevertheless,  Dr.  Girnigo  considered  that  Gibby  had 
surpassed  himself  in  his  application.     He  showed  how 


DOCTOR   GIRNIGo'S    ASSISTANT  49 

any  good  that   ho  might  do  in  the  parish  im  be 

set  down  to  his  credit,  but  to  that  of  Another  who 
had  so  long  laboured  among  them ;  and  how  that  lie 
(the  preacher),  being  but  "as  one  entering  upon  an- 
other man's  line  of  things,"  it  behoved  him  above  all 
things  not  to  be  boastful. 

"A  very  sound  address  —  quite  remarkable  in  one 
so  young!"  was  the  Doctor's  verdict  as  he  met  the 
Session  after  the  close  of  Gilbert's  first  service. 

The  Session  and  congregation,  however,  did  not 
approve  quite  so  highly,  having  had  a  surfeit  of  similar 
teaching  during  the  past  forty  years. 

But  Walter  Learmont,  senior  (sad  to  tell  it  of  an 
Elder),  winked  the  sober  eye  and  remarked  to  his  inti- 
mates :  "Bide  a  wee  —  he  kens  his  way  aboot,  thon  yin. 
He  wad  juist  be  drawin'  the  auld  man's  leg! " 

At  any  rate,  certain  it  is  that  after  this  auspicious 
beginning  Gibby  the  Eel  (M.A.)  remained  longer  in 
Rescobie  than  all  his  predecessors  put  together. 

But  it  was  to  Jemima  Girnigo  that  he  owed  this. 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

For  the  first  six  months  that  Gibby  the  Eel,  other- 
wise the  Reverend  Gilbert  Denholm,  M.A.,  acted  as 
"  helper  "  to  Dr.  Joseph  Girnigo  in  the  parish  of  Res- 
cobie,  he  was  much  pleased  with  himself.  He  laughed 
with  his  friend  and  classmate,  Robertland,  over  the 
infatuation  of  the  doctor's  old  maid  daughter.  The 
parish,  reading  the  situation  like  a  book,  smiled  broadly 
when  the  "helper"  and  Miss  Jemima  Girnigo  were 
discerned  on  an  opposite  braeface,  botanising  together, 
or,  with  heads  bent  over  some  doubtful  bloom,  stood 
silhouetted  against  the  sunlit  green  of  some  glade  in 
Knockandrews  wood. 

During  this  period  Gibby  hugged  himself  upon  his 
cleverness,  but  the  time  came  when  he  began  to  have 
his  doubts.  What  to  him  was  a  light-heart  prank, 
an  "Eel's  trick,"  like  his  college  jest  of  squirming 
secretly  under  class-room  benches,  was  obviously  no 
jest  to  this  pale-eyed,  sharp-featured  maiden  of  one- 
and-forty. 

Jemima  Girnigo  had  never  been  truly  young.  Re- 
pressed and  domineered  over  as  a  child,  she  had  been 
suddenly  promoted  by  her  mother's  death  to  the  care 
of  a  household  and  the  responsibility  of  training  a  bevy 
of  younger  brothers,  all  now  out  in  the  world  and  doing 
for  themselves.  Her  life  had  grown  more  and  more 
arid  and   self-contained.     She   had   nourished   her   soul 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN   51 

on  secret  penances,  setting  herself  hard  household  I 
and  doing  with  only  one  small,  untaught,  slatternly 
maid  from  the  village,  in  order  that  her  father  might  be 
able  to  assist  his  sons  into  careers.  She  read  dry  theol- 
ogy to  mortify  a  liking  for  novels,  and  shut  up  her  soul 
from  intercourse  with  her  equals,  conscious,  perhaps, 
that  visitors  would  infallibly  discover  and  laugh  at  her 
father's  meannesses  and  peculiarities. 

Only  her  flowers  kept  her  soul  sweet  and  a  human 
heart  beating  within  that  buckram-and-whalebone-fenccd 
bosom. 

Then,  all  suddenly  came  Gilbert  Denholm  with  his 
merry  laugh,  his  light-heart  ways  (which  she  openly  re- 
proved, but  secretly  loved),  his  fair  curls  clustering  about 
his  brow,  and  his  way  of  tin-owing  back  his  head  as  if  to 
shake  them  into  place.  Nothing  so  young,  so  winsome, 
or  so  gay  had  ever  set  foot  within  that  solemn,  dreich 
old  manse.  It  was  like  a  light-heart  city  beauty  coming 
to  change  the  life  and  disturb  the  melancholy  of  some 
stern  woman-despising  hermit.  But  Jemima  Girnigo's 
case  was  infinitely  worse,  in  that  she  was  a  woman  and 
the  disturber  of  her  peace  little  better  than  a  foolish  boy. 

But  Gilbert  Denholm,  kindly  lad  though  he  was,  saw 
no  harm.  He  was  only,  he  Ihought,  impressing  himself 
upon  the  parish.  He  saw  himself  daily  becoming  more 
popular.  No  farmer's  party  was  considered  to  be  any- 
thing which  wanted  his  ready  wit  and  contagious  merri- 
ment. Already  there  was  talk  among  the  Session  of 
securing  him  as  permanent  assistant  and  successor. 
There  were  fair  ways  and  clear  sunlit  vistas  before 
Gilbert  Denholm;  and  he  liked  his  professional  pros- 
pects all  the  better  that  he  owed  them  to  his  own  wit 


52  THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

and  knowledge  of  the  world.  He  was  a  good  preacher. 
He  made  what  is  called  an  excellent  appearance  in  the 
pulpit.  He  did  not  "read."  His  fluency  of  utterance 
held  sleepy  ploughmen  in  a  state  of  blinking  attention 
for  the  better  part  of  an  hour.  Even  Dr.  Girnigo  com- 
mended, and  Gibby,  who  had  no  more  abundant  or  direct 
"spiritual  gifts"  than  are  the  portion  of  most  kind- 
hearted,  well-brought-up  Scottish  youths,  was  uncon- 
scious of  his  lack  of  any  higher  qualifications  for  the 
Christian  ministry. 

But  Gibby  was  like  hundreds,  aye,  thousands  more, 
who  break  the  bread  and  open  unto  men  the  Scriptures 
in  all  the  churches.  His  office  meant  to  him  a  career, 
not  a  call.  His  work  was  the  expression  of  hearty 
human  goodwill  to  all  men  —  and  so  far  helpful  and 
godlike ;  but  he  had  never  tasted  sorrow,  never  drunken 
of  the  cup  of  remorse  as  a  daily  beverage,  never  "  dreed  " 
the  common  weird  of  humanity.  Sorely  he  needed  a 
downsetting.  He  must  endure  hardness,  be  driven  out 
of  self  to  the  knowledge  that  self  is  nowise  sufficient  for 
a  sinful  man. 

Even  Jemima  Girnigo  was  a  far  better  servant  of  God 
than  the  man  who  had  spent  seven  years  in  preparation 
for  that  service.  In  the  shut  deeps  of  her  heart  there 
were  locked  up  infinite  treasures  of  self-sacrifice.  Love 
was  pitifully  ready  to  look  forth  from  those  pale  eyes 
at  whose  corners  the  crow's  feet  were  already  clutching. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  knowing  her  folly  (and 
yet,  in  a  way,  defying  it),  this  old  maid  of  forty-one 
loved  the  handsome  youth  of  four-and-twenty,  the  only 
human  love-compelling  thing  that  had  ever  come  into 
her  sombre  life. 


THE   GATE   OF   THE   UPPER   GARDEN      53 

Yet  there  were  times  when  Jemima  Girnigo's   heart 
was  bitter  within  lier,  even  as  there  were  seasons  when 
the  crowding  years   fell   away  and   she  seemed   aim 
young  and   fair.     Jemima   had   never   been  either    . 
pretty   or   remarkably   attractive,    but    now    when     the 
starved  instincts  of   her   lost  youth  awoke  untimeou 
within   her,    she   unconsciously  smiled   and   tossed    her 
head,  to  the  full  as  coquettishly  as  a  youthful   beauty 
just  becoming  conscious  of  her  own  power. 

It  was   all    very  pitiful.     But   Gibby  passed   on    his 
heedless  way  and  saw  not,  neither  recked  of  his  goin.L,r. 
****** 

Yet  a  time  came  when  his  eyes  were  opened.  A  new 
paper-mill  had  come  to  Rescobie,  migrating  from  some- 
where in  the  East  country,  where  the  Messrs.  Coxon 
had  had  a  serious  quarrel  with  their  ground  landlord. 
From  being  a  quiet  hamlet  the  village  of  Rescobie 
began  rapidly  to  put  on  the  airs  of  a  growing  town. 
Tall  houses  of  three  storeys,  with  many  windows  and 
outside  stairs,  usurped  the  place  of  little  old-fashioned 
"  but-and-bens."  Red  brick  oblongs  of  mill  frontage 
rose  along  the  valley  of  the  Rescobie  "Water,  which, 
dammed  and  weired  and  carried  along  countless  lades, 
changed  the  cheerful  brown  limpidity  of  its  youthful 
stream  for  a  frothy  mud  colour  below  the  mills. 

The  new  immigrants  were  mostly  a  sedate  and  sober 
folk,  as  indeed,  nearly  all  paper-makers  are.  To  the 
easy-going  villagers  their  diligence  seemed  phenomenal. 
They  were  flocking  into  the  mill  gates  by  six  in  the 
morning.  It  was  well-nigh  six  in  the  evening  before 
the  tide  flowed  back  toward  the  village.  Among  the 
youths   and   men   there  was   night-shift   and   day-shift, 


54  THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

and  a  new  and  strange  pallor  began  to  pervade  the 
street  and  show  itself,  carefully  washed,  in  the  gallery 
of  Rescobie  Kirk.  The  village  girls,  finding  that  they 
could  make  themselves  early  independent,  took  their 
places  in  the  long  "  finishing  saal,"  while  elderly  women, 
for  whom  there  had  been  no  outlook  except  the  poor- 
house,  found  easy  work  and  a  living  wage  in  Coxon's 
rag-house. 

The  increase  of  the  congregation  in  the  second  year 
of  Gilbert  Denholm's  assistantship  compelled  the  Ses- 
sion to  bethink  themselves  of  some  more  permanent 
and  satisfactory  arrangement.  Finally,  after  many  pri- 
vate meetings  they  resolved  to  beard  the  lion  in  his 
den  and  lay  before  Dr.  Girnigo  the  proposal  that  Gil- 
bert should  be  officially  called  and  ordained  as  the  old 
man's  "  colleague  and  successor." 

It  was  the  ruling  elder,  called,  after  the  name  of  his 
farm,  Upper  Balhaldie,  who  belled  the  cat  and  made 
the  fateful  proposition.  In  so  doing  that  shrewd  and 
cautious  man  was  considered  to  have  excelled  himself. 
But  Dr.  Girnigo  was  far  from  being  appeased. 

"  Sirs,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  sole  minister  of  the 
parish  of  Rescobie  for  forty  years,  and  sole  minister 
of  it  I  shall  die !  " 

"  Mr.  Denholm  will  be  to  you  as  a  son !  "  suggested 
Balhaldie. 

"I  have  sons  of  my  body,"  said  the  old  minister, 
looking  full  at  the  quiet  men  before  him,  who  sat  on 
the  edges  of  their  several  chairs  fingering  the  brims 
of  .  their  hats ;  "  did  I  make  any  of  them  a  minister  ? 
Nay,  sirs,  and  for  this  reason:  because  the  parish  of 
Rescobie  has  been  so  near  my  heart  that   I  would  not 


THE   GATE   OF   THE    CJPPEB   GABD] 

Kk   even   the   fruit   of   my  body  coming   b-  me 

■l   it!" 

"We   have  sounded   Mr.    Denholm,"   said   Balhaldie, 
quietly  ignoring   the    sentimental,    "and  you   may  rest 
assured  that  you  will  not  be  disturbed  in  your  ten,) 
of  the  manse.     Mr.  Denholm  has  no  thought  at  present 
of  Jig    his  condition,  and    is    quite    content   with 

his  lodging  —  and  an  eident  earfu'  woman  is  his  land- 
lady the  doctor's  weedow  !  " 

"  Aye,  she  is  that !  "  concurred  several  of  the  Session, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  It  was  a  relief  to  have 
something  concrete  to  which  they  could  assent. 

Dr.  Girnigo  looked  at  his  Session.  They  seemed  to 
shrink  before  him.  Nervousness  quivered  on  their 
countenances.  They  tucked  their  heavily-booted  feet 
beneath  the  chairs  on  which  they  sat,  to  be  out  of  the 
way.  The  brims  of  their  hats  were  rapidly  wearing 
out.     Surely  such  men  could  never  oppose  him. 

But  Dr.  Girnigo  knew  better.  Underneath  that  awk- 
ward exterior,  in  spite  of  those  embarrassed  manners, 
that  air  of  anxious  self-effacement,  Dr.  Girnigo  was 
well  aware  that  there  abode  inflexible  determination, 
shrewd  common  sense  and  abounding  humour  —  chiefly. 
however,  of  the  ironic  sort. 

••  Are  ye  all  agreed  on  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  speak  in  name  of  the  Session ! "  said  Upper  Bal- 
haldie succinctly,  looking  around  the  circle.  And  as 
he  looked  each  man  nodded  slightly,  without,  however, 
raising  his  eyes  from  the  pattern  on  the  worn  study  carpet. 

The  Doctor  sighed  a  long  sigh.  He  knew  that  at 
last  his  trial  was  come  upon  him,  and  nerved  himself 
to  meet  it  like  a  man. 


56   THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

"It  is  well,"  lie  said;  "I  shall  offer  uo  objection  to 
the  congregation  calling  Mr.  Denholni,  and  I  can  only 
hope  that  he  will  serve  you  as  faithfully  as  I  have 
done !     I  wish  you  a  very  good  day,  gentlemen !  " 

And  with  these  words  the  old  minister  went  out, 
leaving  the  Session  to  find  their  way  into  the  cold  air 
as  best  they  might. 

The  day  after  the  interview  between  the  Session  and 
the  Doctor,  Gilbert  Denholm  called  at  the  manse.  He 
came  bounding  up  the  little  avenue  between  the  lilac 
and  rhododendron  bushes.  Jemima  Girnigo  heard  his 
foot  long  ere  he  had  reached  the  porch.  Nay,  before 
he  had  set  foot  on  the  gravel  she  caught  the  click  of 
the  gate  latch,  which  was  loose  and  woidd  only  open 
one  way.  This  Gibby  always  forgot  and  rattled  it 
fiercely  till  he  remembered  the  trick  of  it. 

Then  when  she  heard  the  rat-tat-tat  of  Gibby's  ash- 
plant  on  the  panels  of  the  door,  she  caught  her  hand 
to  her  heart  and  stood  still  among  her  plants. 

There  was  a  bell,  but  Gibby  was  always  in  too  great  a 
hurry  to  ring  it. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  come  to "     She  did  not  finish 

the  sentence,  but  the  blood,  rising  hotly  to  her  poor 
withered  cheeks,  finished  it  for  her. 

" Oh,  Miss  Jemima  ! "  cried  Gibby,  bursting  in ;  "I 
came  up  to  tell  you  first.  I  owe  it  all  to  you  —  every 
bit  of  it.  They  are  going  to  call  me  to  be  colleague  — 
and  —  and  —  we  can  botanise  any  amount.  Isn't  it 
glorious  ?  " 

He  held  her  hand  while  he  was  speaking ;  and  Jemima 
had  been  looking  with  hope  into  his  frank,  enkindled, 
boyish  eyes.     Her  eyelids  fell  at  his  announcement. 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  QPPEB  GARD1    57 

"Yes,''  Bhe  faltered  after  a  pause,  "we  can  botanise!" 

"And  they  wanted  to  know  if  I  would  like  to  have 
the  manse  —  as  if  I  would  turn  von  out,  who  have  been 
my  best  friend  here  ever  since  1  came  to  Rescobie!  Not 
wry  likely  !" 

Gilbert  had  au  honest  liking  for  Jemima  Girnigo,  a 

Ling,  however,  which  was  not  in  the  least  akin  to 
love.  Indeed,  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  marry- 
ing his  grandmother  or  any  other  of  the  relationships  in 
the  table  of  prohibited  degrees  printed  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Authorised  Version,  which  he  sometimes  looked 
at  furtively  when  Dr.  Girnigo  was  developing  his  " four- 
teenthly." 

"You  are  happy  where  you  are?"  said  Jemima, 
smiling  a  little  wistfully. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Gibby  enthusiastically ;  "  my  landlady 
makes  me  perfectly  comfortable.  She  thinks  I  am  a 
lost  soul,  I  am  afraid,  but  in  the  meantime  she  comforts 
me  with  apples  —  first-rate  they  are  in  dumplings,  too, 
I  can  tell  you  !  " 

While  he  spoke  Jemima  Girnigo  was  much  absorbed 
over  a  plant  in  a  remote  corner,  and  more  than  one  drop 
of  an  alien  dew  glistened  upon  its  leaves  ere  she  turned 
again  to  the  window.  Gibby's  enthusiasm  was  a  little 
damped  by  her  seeming  indifference. 

"  Are  you  not  glad  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously ;  "  I  came  to 
tell  you  first.  I  thought  what  good  times  we  should 
have.  We  must  go  up  Barstobrick  Hill  for  the  parsley 
fern  before  it  gets  too  late." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Jemima  Girnigo,  holding  out  her 
hand,  "  I  am  very  glad.  No  one  is  as  glad  as  I  —  I  want 
you  to  believe  that !  " 


58  THE  GATE  OF  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

"  Of  course  I  do !  "  cried  Gibby  ;  "  you  always  were  a 
good  fellow,  Jemima!  We'll  go  up  to  Barstobrick  to- 
morrow. Mind  you  are  ready  by  nine.  I  have  to  be 
back  for  a  meeting  in  the  afternoon  early.  It  is  a 
hungry  place.     Put  some  '  prog  '  in  the  vasculum ! " 

And  as  from  the  parlour  window  she  watched  him 
down  the  gravel,  he  turned  around  and  wrote  "  9  a.m." 
in  large  letters  on  the  gravel  with  his  ash  plant,  tossed 
his  hand  up  at  her  in  a  gay  salute,  and  was  gone. 

-)£  TT  tF  tP  *  TP 

But  Gilbert  Denholm  and  Jemima  Girnigo  did  not 
climb  Barstobrick  for  parsley  fern  on  the  morrow,  and 
the  "9  a.m."  stood  long  plain  upon  the  gravel  as  a 
monument  of  the  frail  and  futile  intents  of  man. 

For  before  the  morrow's  morn  had  dawned  there  had 
fallen  upon  Rescobie  the  dreaded  scourge  of  all  paper- 
making  villages.  Virulent  small-pox  had  broken  out. 
There  were  already  four  undoubted  cases,  all  emanating 
from  the  rag-house  of  Coxon's  mills. 

About  the  streets  and  close-mouths  stood  awe-struck 
groups  of  girls,  uncertain  whether  to  go  on  with  their 
work  or  return  home.  There  was  none  of  the  usual 
horse-play  among  the  lads  of  the  day-shift  as  they  went 
soberly  mill-ward  with  their  cans.  Grave  elders,  ma- 
chinemen  and  engineers,  shook  their  heads  and  recalled 
the  date  at  which  (a  fortnight  before)  a  large  consign- 
ment of  Russian  rags  had  been  received  and  immediately 
put  in  hand. 

It  was  whispered,  on  what  authority  did  not  appear, 
that  the  disease  was  of  the  malignant  "  black  "  variety, 
and  that  all  smitten  must  surely  die.  Fear  ran  swift 
and   chilly  up  each   outside   staircase   and  entered  un- 


THE   GATE   OF   THE    QPPEB    GARD1  r>9 

bidden  every  "land"  in  Rescobie.  lb  was  the  first  ti 
such  a  terror  had  been  in  the  village,  and  those  who  had 
opposed  the  settlement  of  the  mills,  staid  praisers  of 
ancient  quiet,  lifted  their  bands  with  something  of 
jubilation  mixed  with  their  fear.  "Verily,  the  judg- 
ment of  Gud  has  fallen,"  they  said,  "even  as  in  a  night 
it  fell  on  Babylon — as  in  fire  and  brimstone  it  came 
upon  the  Cities  of  the  Plain." 

Dr.  Girnigo  retired  to  his  study,  feeling  that  if  the 
Session  had  allowed  him  his  own  way,  things  would  not 
e  been  as  they  were.  He  had  a  sermon  to  write. 
So  he  mended  a  quill  pen,  took  out  his  sermon-paper 
(small  quarto  ruled  in  blue),  and  set  to  work  to  improve 
the  occasion.  He  said  to  himself  that  since  the  parish 
had  now  a  young  and  active  minister,  it  was  good  for 
Gilbert  Denholm  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 

And,  indeed,  none  was  readier  for  the  work  than  that 
same  Gilbert.  He  was  shaving  when  his  landlady,  the 
doctor's  widow,  cried  in  the  information  through  the 
panels  of  his  closed  door. 

"  Thank  God,"  murmured  Gibby,  "that  I  have  none  to 
mourn  for  me  if  I  don't  get  through  this  ! " 

Then  he  thought  of  his  father,  but,  as  he  well  knew, 
that  fine  old  Spartan  was  too  staunch  a  fighter  in  the 
wars  of  grace  to  discourage  his  son  from  any  duty,  how- 
ever dangerous.  He  thought  next  of  —  well,  one  or  two 
girls  he  had  known  —  and  was  glad  now  that  it  had  gone 
no  further. 

He  did  not  know  yet  what  was  involved  in  the  out- 
break or  what  might  be  demanded  of  him.  Gilbert 
Benholm  may  have  had  few  of  the  peculiar  graces  of 
spiritual  religion,  but  he  was  a  fine,  manly,  upstanding 


60      THE   GATE   OF   THE   UPPER   GARDEN 

young  fellow,  and  lie  resolved  that  he  would  do  his  duty 
as  if  he  had  been  heading  a  rush  of  boarders  or  standing 
in  the  deadly  imminent  breach.  More  exactly,  perhaps, 
he  did  not  resolve  at  all.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that 
he  could  do  anything  else. 

As  soon  as  he  had  snatched  a  hasty  breakfast  and 
thrown  on  his  coat,  he  hurried  up  to  the  house  of  Dr. 
Durie.  A  plain  blunt  man  was  John  Durie  —  slim,  pale, 
with  keen  dark  eyes,  and  a  pointed  black  beard  slightly 
touched  with  gray.  The  doctor  was  not  at  home.  He 
had  not  been  in  all  night  and  the  maid  did  not  know 
where  he  was  to  be  found. 

To  the  right-about  went  Gilbert,  asking  all  and  sundry 
as  he  went  where  and  when  they  had  seen  the  doctor. 
Thomas  Kyle,  with  his  back  against  the  angle  of  the 
Railway  Inn,  averred  that  he  had  seen  him  "  an  'oor 
syne  gangin'  gye  fast  into  Betty  McGrath's —  but  they 
say  Betty  is  deid  or  this ! "  he  added,  somewhat  irrele- 
vantly. Chairles  Simson,  tilting  his  bonnet  over  his 
brows  in  order  to  scratch  his  head  in  a  new  and  attrac- 
tive spot,  deponed  that  about  ten  minutes  before  he  had 
noticed  "the  tails  o'  the  doctor's  coat  gaun  roond  the 
Mill-lands'  corner  like  stoor  on  a  windy  day." 

Gibby  tried  Betty  McGrath's  first.  Yes,  Dr.  Durie 
had  ordered  everybody  out  except  the  sick  woman,  who 
was  tossing  on  her  truckle  bed,  calling  on  the  Virgin  and 
all  the  saints  in  a  shrill  Galway  dialect,  and  her  daughter 
Bridget,  a  heavy-featured  girl  of  twenty,  who  stood  dis- 
consolately looking  out  at  the  window  as  if  hope  had 
wholly  forsaken  her  heart. 

Gibby  inquired  if  the  doctor  had  been  there  recently. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Bridget ;  "  as  ye  may  see  if  ye'll  be 


THE   GATE   OF   THE    UPPEB    GARDEN      61 

troubled  Lookin'  is  the  corner.     Ee  tore  down  all  thim 

curtains  off  the  l>ox-bed.     It'll   break  the  ould  woman's 
heart,  that  it  will,  if  ever  the  craitur  gets  over  tin..." 

At  the  door  Gibby  me1  Father  Phi]  Kavannah,  a  tall 
young  man  with  honesl  peasant's  eyes  and  a  humorous 
mouth. 

••  Sou  and  I,  suit,  will  have  to  see  this  t  hrough  bel  ween 
us,'*  said  Father  Phil,  grasping  his  hand. 

"  It  is  a  bad  business,"  responded  Gilberl  ;  "I  fear  it 
will  run  through  the  nulls." 

"Worse  than  ye  think,"  said  the  priest  very  gravely, 
"ten  times  worse  —  three-fourths  of  the  workers  have  no 
relatives  here,  and  there  will  be  no  one  to  nurse  them. 
They've  talked  lashin's  about  the  new  village,  hospital, 
and  raised  all  Tipperary  about  where  it  is  to  stand  and 
what  it  is  to  cost,  but  that's  all  that's  done  about  it 
yet." 

Gilbert  whistled  a  bar  of  ''Annie  Laurie,"  which  he 
kept  for  emergencies. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  it  will  be  like  serving  a  Sun- 
day-school picnic  with  half  a  loaf  and  one  jar  of  marma- 
lade—  but  we'll  just  need  to  see  how  far  we  can  make 
ourselves  go  round  !  " 

"  Right ! "  said  Father  Phil  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  as 
he  stood  with  his  fingers  on  the  latch  of  Betty  McGrath's 
door. 

Gilbert  found  the  doctor  in  the  great  "  saal "  at  the 
mills.  He  had  his  coat  off  and  was  scraping  at  bared 
arms  for  dear*  life.  At  each  door  stood  a  pair  of  stalwart 
sentinels,  and  several  hundred  mill  workers  were  grouped 
about  talking  in  low-voiced  clusters.  Only  here  and 
there  one  more  diligent  than  the  rest,  or  with  quieter 


62  THE  GATE  OE  THE  UPPER  GARDEN 

nerves,  deftly  passed  sheets  of  white  paper  from  hand  to 
hand  as  if  performing  a  conjuring  trick. 

The  doctor  spied  Gilbert  as  he  entered.  They  were 
excellent  friends.  "Man,"  he  cried  across  the  great 
room,  looking  down  again  instantly  to  his  work,  "  run  up 
to  the  surgery  for  another  tube  of  vaccine  like  this.  It 
is  in  B  cabinet,  shelf  6.  And  as  you  come  back,  wire  for 
half-a-dozen  more.     You  know  where  I  get  them ! " 

And  Gilbert  sped  upon  his  first  errand.  After  that  he 
deserted  his  own  lodgings,  and  he  and  Dr.  Durie  took 
hasty  and  informal  meals  when  they  could  snatch  a  mo- 
ment from  work.  Sundry  cold  edibles  stood  perma- 
nently on  the  doctor's  oaken  sideboard,  and  of  these 
Gilbert  and  his  host  partook  without  sitting  down. 
Then  on  a  couch,  or  more  often  on  a  few  rugs  thrown  on 
the  floor,  one  or  the  other  would  snatch  a  hurried  sleep. 

There  were  twenty-six  cases  on  Saturday  —  fifty-eight 
by  the  middle  of  the  following  week.  Within  the  same 
period  nine  had  terminated  fatally,  and  there  were  others 
who  could  not  possibly  recover.  Nurses  came  in  from 
the  great  city  hospitals,  as  they  could  be  spared,  but  the 
demand  far  exceeded  the  supply  and  Gilbert  was  inde- 
fatigable. Yet  his  laugh  was  cheery  as  ever,  and  even 
the  delirious  would  start  into  some  faint  consciousness 
of  pleasure  at  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

But  one  day  the  young  minister  awoke  with  a  racking 
head,  a  burning  body,  a  dry  throat,  and  the  chill  of  ice 
in  his  bones. 

"This  is  nothing  —  I  will  work  it  off,"  said  Gibby; 
and,  getting  up,  he  dressed  with  haste  and  went  out 
without  touching  food.  The  thought  of  eating  was 
abhorrent  to  him.      Nevertheless,  he  did  his  work  all 


TIM',    (i  \TK   OF   Till:    CTPPEB    GARDEN      03 

the  forenoon,  and  went  here  and  there  with  medicine  and 

necessaries.  Hi'  relieved  a  nurse  who  had  been  I 
nights  on  duty,  while  she  slept  for  six  hours.  Then 
after  that  he  set  off  home  to  catch  Dr.  Durie  before  he 
could  be  out  again.  For  he  bad  heard  his  host  come  in 
and  throw  himself  down  on  the  couch  while  he  was 
dressing. 

As  he  passed  the  front  of  Rescobie  Manse,  he  look^i 
up  to  wave  a  hand  to  Jemima,  as  he  never  forgot  to  do. 
Her  father  was  still  "  indisposed,"  and  Miss  Girnigo  was 
understood  to  be  taking  care  of  him.  Yes,  there  she  was 
among  her  flowers,  and  Gibby,  hardly  knowing  what  he 
did — being  light-headed  and  racked  with  pain  —  openly 
kissed  his  hand  to  her  within  sight  of  half-a-score  of 
Rescobie  windows. 

Then,  his  feet  somehow  tangling  themselves  and  his 
knees  failing  him,  he  fell  all  his  length  in  the  hot  dust 

of  the  highway. 

****** 

When  Gilbert  Denholm  came  to  himself  he  found  a 
white-capped  nurse  sitting  by  the  windoAv  of  a  room  he 
had  never  before  seen.  There  was  a  smell  of  disinfec- 
tants all  about,  which  somehow  seemed  to  have  followed 
him  through  all  the  boundless  interstellar  spaces  across 
which  he  had  been  wandering. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  said  Gibby,  as  the  nurse  came  to- 
ward the  bed.  "  I  have  not  seen  Betty  McGrath  this 
morning,  and  I  promised  Father  Phil  that  -I  would." 

"  You  must  not  ask  questions,"  said  the  nurse  quietly. 
"  Dr.  Durie  will  soon  be  here." 

And  after  that  with  a  curious  readiness  Gibby  sli] 
back   into  a  drowsy    dream   of   gathering   flowers   with 


64     THE   GATE   OF   THE   UPPER   GARDEN 

Jemima  Girnigo ;  but  somehow  it  was  another  Jemima 
—  so  young  she  seemed,  so  fair.  Crisp  curls  glanced 
beneath  her  hat  brim.  Young  blood  mantled  in  change- 
ful blushes  on  her  cheeks.  Her  pale  eyes,  which  had 
always  been  a  little  watery,  were  now  blue  and  bright  as  a 
mountain  tarn  on  a  day  without  clouds.  He  had  never 
seen  so  fair  and  joyous  a  thing. 

"Jemima,"  he  said,  or  seemed  to  himself  to  say, 
"what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  are  different 
somehow." 

"  It  is  all  because  you  love  me,  Gilbert,"  she  answered, 
and  smiled  up  at  him.  "  Ever  since  you  told  me  that, 
I  have  grown  younger  every  hour ;  and,  do  you  know,  I 
have  found  the  Grass  of  Parnassus  at  last.  It  grows  by 
the  Gate  into  the  Upper  Garden." 

"  Hello,  Denholm,  clothed  and  in  your  right  mind,  eh  ? 
That's  right ! " 

It  was  the  cheerful  voice  of  his  friend,  Dr.  Durie,  as 
he  stood  by  Gibby's  bedside. 

"  What  has  been  the  matter  with  me,  Durie  ? "  said 
Gilbert,  though  in  his  heart  he  knew. 

"  You  have  had  bad  small-pox,  my  boy ;  and  have  had 
a  hot  chance  to  find  out  whether  you  have  been  speak- 
ing the  truth  in  your  sermons." 

Gibby  could  hardly  bring  his  lips  to  frame  the  next 
question.  He  was  far  from  vain,  but  to  a  young  man 
the  thought  was  a  terrible  one. 

"  Shall  I  be  much  disfigured  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  dimple  or  two  —  nothing  to  mar  you  on  your 
marriage  day.     You  have  been  well  looked  after." 

"You  have  saved  my  life,  doctor." 


THE   GATE   OF   THE   UPPEB    GARDEN      65 

And  Gibby  strove  bo  reach  a  feeble  hand  outward, 
which.,  however,  bhe  doctor  did  not  seem  bo  aee. 

'•  Not  I  — you  owe  thai  bo  some  one  else." 

"The  nurse  who  went  ou1  just  now'.'-*  queried  Gibby. 

"No,  she  has  just  been  here  a  few  days,  after  all 
danger  had  passed." 

Gilbert  strove  bo  rise  on  his  elbow  and  bhe  red  flushed 
his  poor  face. 

The  doctor  restrained  him  with  a  strong  and  gentle 
hand. 

"Lie  back/'  he  said,  "or  I  will  go  away  and  tell  you 
nothing." 

He  sat  down  by  the  bedside,  and  with  a  soft  sponge 
touched  the  convalescent's  brow.  As  he  did  so  he  spoke 
in  a  low  and  meditative  tone  as  though  he  had  been 
talking  to  himself. 

"There  was  once  a  foolish  young  man  who  thought 
that  he  could  take  twenty  shillings  out  of  a  purse  into 
winch  he  had  only  put  half  a  sovereign.  He  fell  down 
one  day  on  the  street.  A  woman  carried  him  in  and 
nursed  him  through  a  fortnight's  delirium.  A  woman 
caught  him  as  he  ran,  with  only  a  blanket  about  him,  to 
drown  himself  in  the  Black  Pool  of  Rescobie  Water. 
Night  and  day  she  watched  him,  sleepless,  without 
weariness,  without  murmuring " 

••  And  this  woman  —  who  saved  my  life  —  what  was 
—  her  name  ?  " 

Gibby 's  voice  was  very  hoarse. 

"  Jemima  Girnigo !  "  said  the  doctor,  sinking  his  voice 
also  to  a  whisper. 

a  Where  is  she —  1  want  to  see  her — I  want  to  thank 
her !  "  cried  Gibby.    He  was  actually  upon  his  elbow  now. 


66     THE   GATE   OF   THE   UPPEE   GARDEN 

Dr.  Durie   forced  him  gently  back  upon  the  pillows. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said  soothingly,  "so  you  shall  —  if  all 
tales  be  true ;  but  for  that  you  must  wait." 

«  Why —  why  ?  "  cried  impatient  Gibby.  "  Why  can- 
not I  see  her  now  ?  She  has  done  more  for  me  than  ever 
I  deserved " 

"That  is  the  way  of  women,"  said  the  doctor,  "but 
you  cannot  thank  her  now.     She  is  dead." 

"  Dead  —  dead !  "  gasped  Gilbert,  stricken  to  the  heart ; 
"  then  she  gave  her  life  for  me  ! " 

"  Something  like  it,"  said  the  doctor,  a  trifle  grimly. 
For  though  he  was  a  wise  man,  the  ways  of  women  were 
dark  to  him.  He  thought  that  Gilbert,  though  a  fine 
lad,  was  not  worth  all  this. 

"  Dead,"  muttered  Gibby  j  "  and  I  cannot  even  tell  her 
—  make  it  up  to  her ■ " 

"  She  left  you  a  message,"  said  the  doctor  very  quietly. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  cried  Gibby,  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  Dr.  Durie ;  "  there  was  no 
hope  from  the  first,  and  she  knew  it.  Her  mind  was 
clear  all  the  three  days,  almost  to  the  last.  She  may  have 
wandered  a  little  then,  for  she  told  me  to  tell  you " 

"  What  —  what  —  oh,  what  ?  Tell  me  quickly.  I  can- 
not wait." 

"  That  the  flowers  were  blooming  in  the  Upper  Garden, 
and  that  she  would  meet  you  at  the  Gate  !  " 

#  #  #  #  #  # 

The  Reverend  Gilbert  Denholm  never  married.  He 
bears  a  scar  or  two  on  his  open  face  —  a  face  well  beloved 
among  his  people.  There  is  a  grave  in  Rescobie  kirk- 
yard  that  he  tends  with  his  own  hands.  None  else  must 
touch  it. 


THE  GATE  OF  THE  UTPEB  GARDEN   67 

It  is  the  resting-place  of  a  woman  whom  love  made 
young  and  beautiful,  and  about  whose  feet  the  flowers  of 
Paradise  are  blooming,  as,  alone  but  not  impatient,  she 
waits  his  coming  by  the  Gate. 


THE   TROUBLES  OF   ISRAEL 

Unless  you  happen  to  have  made  one  of  a  group  of 
five  or  six  young  men  who  every  Sunday  morning  turned 
their  steps  towards  the  little  meeting-house  in  Lady 
Nixon's  Wynd,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  you  did  not  know 
either  it  or  the  Doctor  of  Divinity.  That  is  to  say,  not 
unless  you  were  born  in  the  Purple  and  expert  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  Kirk  of  the  Covenants. 

The  denomination  was  a  small  one,  smaller  even  and 
poorer  than  is  the  wont  of  Scottish  sects.  By  the 
eternal  process  of  splitting  off,  produced  by  the  very 
faithfulness  of  the  faithful,  and  the  remorseless  way  in 
which  they  carried  out  their  own  logic,  by  individual 
protestings  and  testifyings,  by  the  yet  sadder  losses  in- 
flicted by  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  when  some, 
allured  by  social  wealth  and  position,  turned  aside  to 
worship  in  some  richer  or  more  popular  Zion,  the  Kirk 
of  the  Covenants  worshipping  in  Lady  Nixon's  Wynd 
had  become  but  the  shadow  of  its  former  self. 

Still,  however,  by  two  infallible  signs  you  might  know 
the  faithful.  They  spoke  of  the  "  Boady  "  and  of  the 
"  Coavenants  "  with  a  lengthening  of  that  o  which  in  it- 
self constituted  a  shibboleth,  and  their  faces  —  grim  and 
set  mostly  —  lit  up  when  you  spoke  of  the  "  Doctor." 

But  one  —  they  had  but  one  —  Dr.  Marcus  Lawton  of 
Lady  Nixon's  Wynd.  He  was  their  joy,  their  pride,  their 
poetry  ;  the  kitchen  to  their  sour  controversial  bread,  the 

68 


THE   TROUBLES   OP    [8EAEL 

mellow  glory  of  their  denomination.     (Again  you  m 
broaden  the  a  indefinitely.)     He  had  once  been  a  pro- 
fessor, but  by  the  noblest  of  self-denying  ordinances  he 
had  extruded  himself  from  his  post  for  conscience'  sake. 

There  was  but  one  fly  in  their  apothecary's  ointn. 
pot  when  my  father  grew  too  stiff  to  attend  the  Kirk  of 
the  Covenants  even  once  a  year,  and  that  was  that  the 
Doctor,  unable  to  live  and  bring  up  a  family  on  a  sadly 
dwindling  stipend  (though  every  man  and  woman  in  the 
little  kirk  did  almost  beyond  their  possible  to  increase 
it  i,  had  been  compelled  to  bind  himself  to  spend  part  of 
the  day  in  a  secular  pursuit. 

At  least  to  the  average  mind  his  employment  could 
hardly  be  called  "  secular,"  being  nothing  more  than  the 
Secretaryship  of  the  Association  for  the  Propagation  of 
Gospel  Literature ;  but  to  the  true  covenant  man  this 
sonorous  society  was  composed  of  mere  Erastians,  or 
what  was  little  better,  ex-Erastians  and  common  Volun- 
taries. They  all  dated  from  1689,  and  the  mark  of  the 
beast  was  on  their  forehead  —  that  is  to  say,  the  seal 
of  the  third  William,  the  Dutchman,  the  revolutionary 
Gallio.  Yet  their  Doctor,  with  his  silver  hair,  his  faith- 
ful tongue,  his  reverence,  wisdom,  and  weight  of  indubi- 
table learning,  had  to  sit  silent  in  the  company  of  such 
men,  to  take  his  orders  from  them,  and  even  to  record 
their  profane  inanities  in  black  and  white.  The  Doctor's 
office  was  at  the  corner  of  Victoria  Street,  as  you  turn 
down  towards  the  Grassmarket.  And  when  any  of  his 
flock  met  him  coming  or  going  thither,  they  turned  away 
their  heads  —  that  is,  if  he  had  passed  the  entrance  to 
Lady  Nixon's  Wynd  when  they  met  him.  So  far  it  was 
understood  that  he  might  be  going  to  write  his  sermon  in 


70  THE   TROUBLER  OF   ISRAEL 

the  quiet  of  the  vestry.  After  that  there  was  no  escape 
from  the  damning  conclusion  that  he  was  on  his  way  to 
the  shrine  of  Baal  —  and  other  Erastian  divinities..  So 
upon  George  Fourth  Bridge  the  Covenant  folk  turned 
away  their  heads  and  did  not  see  their  minister. 

Now  this  is  hardly  a  story  —  certainly  not  a  tale. 
Only  my  heart  heing  heavy,  I  knew  it  would  do  me  good 
to  turn  it  upon  the  Doctor.  Dr.  Marcus  Lawton  was  the 
son  of  Dr.  Marcus  Lawton.  When  first  he  succeeded  his 
father,  which  happened  when  he  was  little  more  than  a 
boy,  and  long  before  I  was  born,  he  was  called  "  young 
Maister  Lawton."  Then  it  was  that  he  lectured  on 
"The  Revelation"  on  Sabbath  evenings,  his  father  sit- 
ting proudly  behind  him.  Then  the  guttering  candles 
of  Lady  Nixon's  looked  down  on  such  an  array  as  had 
never  been  seen  before  within  her  borders.  College  pro- 
fessors were  there,  ministers  whose  day's  work  was  over 
—  as  it  had  been,  Cretes  and  Arabians,  heafhen  men  and 
publicans.  Edward  Irving  himself  came  once,  in  the 
weariful  days  before  the  great  darkness.  The  little  kirk 
was  packed  every  night,  floor  and  loft,  aisle  and  pulpit 
stairs,  entrance  hall  and  window-sill,  with  such  a  crowd 
of  stern,  grave-visaged  men  as  had  never  been  gathered 
into  any  kirk  in  the  town  of  Edinburgh  since  a  certain 
little  fair  man  called  Rutherford  preached  there  on  his 
way  to  his  place  of  exile  in  Aberdeen. 

So  my  father  has  often  told  me,  and  you  may  be  sure 
he  was  there  more  than  once,  having  made  it  a  duty  to 
do  his  business  with  my  lord's  factor  at  a  time  when  his 
soul  also  might  have  dealings  with  the  most  approven 
factors  of  Another  Lord. 

These  were  great   days,   and   my  father  (Alexander 


THE   TROUBLES   OF    fSRAEL  71 

McQuhirr  of  Drumquhat)  still  kindles  when  he  tells  of 
them.  N"o  need  of  dubious  secretaryships  then,  or  of 
the  turn i hi;- away  of  faithful  beads  at  the  angle  of  the 
Candlemaker-row.  N<>  young  family  to  be  provided  for, 
Doctorate  coming  at  the  Session's  close  from  his  ( 
university,  Professorship  on  the  horizon,  a  united  Body 
of  the  devout  to  minister  to !  And  up  there  in  the  pul- 
pit a  slim  young  man  with  drawing  power  in  the  eyes  of 
him,  and  a  voice  \\  hich  even  t  hen  was  mellow  as  a  bla 
bird's  flute,  laying  down  the  Law  of  his  Master  like  unto 
the  greal  of  old  who  testified  from  Cairntable  ei  en  onto 
Pentland,  and  from  the  Session  Stane  at  Shalloch-on- 
Minnoch  to  where  the  lion  of  Loudon  Hill  looks  defiant 
across  the  green  flowe  of  Drumclog. 

But  when  I  began  to  attend  Lady  Nixon's  regularly, 
things  were  sorely  otherwise.  The  kirk  was  dwindled 
and  dwindling  —  in  membership,  in  influence,  most  of 
ail  in  finance.  But  not  at  all  in  devotion,  not  in  enthu- 
siasm, not  in  the  sense  of  privilege  that  those  who 
remained  were  thought  worthy  to  sit  under  such  faitliful 
ministrations  as  those  of  the  Doctor.  There  was  no 
more  any  "young  Maister  Lawton."  Nor  was  a  com- 
parison pointed  disparagingly  by  a  reference  to  "  the 
Auld  Doctor,  young  Dr.  Marcus's  farther,  ye  ken." 

From  the  alert,  keen-faced,  loyal-hearted  precentor 
(no  hireling  he)  to  the  grave  and  dignified  "kirk-officer" 
there  were  not  two  minds  in  all  that  little  body  of  the 
faithful. 

You  remember  MacHaffie  —  a  steadfast  man  Haffie  — 
no  more  of  his  name  ever  used.  Indeed,  it  was  but 
lately  that  I  even  knew  he  owned  the  prefatory  Mar. 
He  would  give  you  a  helpful  hint  oftentimes  (after  you 


72  THE   TROUBLER   OF   ISRAEL 

Had  passed  the  plate),  "  It's  no  MmseV  the  day  ! "  Or 
more  warningly  and  particularly,  "  It's  a  student."  Then 
Haffie  would  cover  your  retreat,  sometimes  going  the 
length  of  making  a  pretence  of  conversation  with  you  as 
far  as  the  door,  or  on  urgent  occasions  (as  when  the 
Doctor  was  so  far  left  to  himself  as  to  exchange  with 
a  certain  "popular  preacher")  even  taking  you  down- 
stairs and  letting  you  out  secretly  by  a  postern  door 
w  liich  led,  in  the  approven  manner  of  romances,  into  a 
side  street  down  which,  all  unseen,  you  could  escape  from 
your  fate.  But  Haffie  always  kept  an  eye  on  you  to  see 
that  you  did  not  abstract  your  penny  from  the  plate. 
That  was  the  payment  he  exacted  for  his  good  offices ; 
and  as  I  could  not  afford  two  pennies  on  one  Sunday 
morning,  Haffie' s  "private  information"  usually  drove 
me  to  Arthur's  Seat,  or  down  to  Granton  for  a  smell  of 
the  salt  water;  and  I  can  only  hope  that  this  is  set 
down  to  Haffie' s  account  in  the  books  of  the  recording 
angel. 

But  all  this  was  before  the  advent  of  Gullibrand. 
You  have  heard  of  him,  I  doubt  not  —  Gullibrand  of 
Barker,  Barker,  &  Gullibrand,  provision  merchants, 
with  branches  all  over  the  three  kingdoms.  His  name 
is  on  every  blank  wall. 

Gullibrand  was  not  an  Edinburgh  man.  He  came, 
they  say,  from  Leicester  or  some  Midland  English  town, 
and  brought  a  great  reputation  with  him.  He  had  been 
Mayor  of  his  own  city,  a  philanthropist  almost  by  pro- 
fession, and  the  light  and  law  giver  of  his  own  particu- 
lar sect  always.  I  have  often  wondered  what  brought 
him  to  Lady  Nixon's  Wynd.  Perhaps  he  was  attracted 
by  the  smallness  of   our  numbers,  and  by  the  thought 


Ill  I :    TKnlBLKi;    OF    ISUAKL  7:: 

that,  in  default  of  an;,  congregation  of  his  own  peculiaj 
sect  in  the  Qorthern  metropolis,  he  could  "bo  bhe 
Kirk  til'  the  Covenants  as  he  had  of  a  long  season 
"bossed"  the  Company  of  Apocalyptic  Believers. 

It  was  said,  with  I  know  aol  whal  truth,  thai  the 
tii  i    time    Mr.    Gullibrand    came   to   the    Kirk   of    • 

..■naiits,  the  Poetor  was  Lecturing  in  his  ord 
way  upon  Daniel's  Beast  with  Ten  limns.  Ami.  if  thai 
be  so,  our  angelical  Doctor  had  reason  to  rue  to 
end  of  his  life  that  the  discourse  had  been  so  faithful 
and  soul-searching.  Though  Gullibrand  thought  his 
interpretation  of  the  ninth  horn  very  deficient,  and  told 
him  so.  But  he  was  so  far  satisfied  that  he  intimated 
his  intention  of  "sending  in  his  lines"  next  week. 

At  first  it  was  thought  to  be  a  great  thing  that  the 
Kirk  of  the  Covenants  in  Lady  Nixon's  Wynd  should 
receive  so  wealthy  and  distinguished  an  adherent. 

"  Quite  an  acquisition,  my  dear,*'  said  the  hard-pressed 
treasurer,  thinking  of  the  ever-increasing  difficulty  of 
collecting  the  stipend,  and  of  the  church  expenses,  which 
had  a  way  of  totalling  up  beyond  all  expectation. 

"  Bide  a  wee,  Henry,"  said  his  more  cautious  wife ; 
"  to  see  the  colour  o'  the  man's  siller  is  no  to  ken  the 
colour  o'  his  heart." 

And  to  this  she  added  a  thoughtful  rider. 

"And  after  a',  what  does  a  bursen  Englishy  craitur 
like  yon  ken  aboot  the  Kirk  o'  the  Coa-venants  ?  ' 

And  as  good  Mistress  Walker  prophesied  as  she  took 
her  douce  way  homeward  with  her  husband  (honorary 
treasurer  and  unpaid  precentor)  down  the  Middle  Meadow 
Walk,  even  so  in  the  fuluess  of  time  it  fell  out. 

Mr.   Jacob   Gullibrand   gave   liberally,  at   which   the 


74  THE   TROUBLES   OF  ISRAEL 

kindly  heart  of  the  treasurer  was  elate  within  him. 
Mr.  Jacob  Gullibrand  got  a  vacant  seat  in  the  front  of 
the  gallery  which  had  once  belonged  to  a  great  family 
from  which,  the  faithful  dying  out,  the  refuse  had  de- 
clined upon  a  certain  Sadducean  opinion  calling  itself 
Episcopacy;  and  from  this  highest  seat  in  the  syna- 
gogue Mr.  Jacob  blinked  with  a  pair  of  fishy  eyes  at 
the  Doctor. 

Then  in  the  fulness  of  time  Mr.  Jacob  became  a 
"manager,"  because  it  was  considered  right  that  he 
should  have  a  say  in  the  disposition  of  the  temporalities 
of  which  he  provided  so  great  a  part.  Entry  to  the 
Session  was  more  difficult.  For  the  Session  is  a  select 
and  conservative  body  —  an  inner  court,  a  defenced  place 
set  about  with  thorns  and  not  to  be  lightly  approached ; 
but  to  such  a  man  as  Gullibrand  all  doors  in  the  religious 
world  open  too  easily.  Whence  cometh  upon  the  Church 
of  God  mockings  and  scorn,  the  strife  of  tongues  —  and 
after  the  vials  have  been  poured  out,  at  the  door  One  with 
the  sharp  sword  in  His  hand,  the  sword  that  hath  two 
edges. 

So  after  presiding  at  many  Revival  meetings  and  head- 
ing the  lists  of  many  subscriptions,  Jacob  Gullibrand 
became  an  elder  in  the  Kirk  of  the  Covenants  and  a 
power  in  Lady  Nixon's  Wynd. 

He  had  for  some  time  been  a  leading  Director  of  the 
Association  for  the  Propagation  of  Gospel  Literature; 
and  so  in  both  capacities  he  was  the  Doctor's  master. 
Then,  having  gathered  to  him  a  party,  recruited  chiefly 
from  the  busybodies  in  other  men's  matters  and  other 
women's  characters,  Jacob  Gullibrand  turned  him  about, 
and  set  himself  to  drive  the  minister  and  folk  of   the 


THE   TROUBLES   OF    [8RAEL  75 

Kirk  of  the  Covenant  as  he  had  been  wonl   to  drive  bil 

clerks  and  shop-assistants. 

He  went  every  Sabbath  into  the  vestry  after  service 
to  reprove  and  instruct   Dr.  Marcus  Lawton.     His  Ber- 

mons  (so  he  told  him)  were  too  old-fashioned.  They 
did  qo1  •■  grip  the  people."  They  did  not  "take  hold  of 
the  man  on  the  street."  They  were  not  "in  line  with 
the  present  great  movement."  In  short,  they  "  lacked 
modernity." 

Dr.  Marcus  answered  meekly.  Man  more  modest  than 
our  dear  Doctor  there  was  not  in  all  the  churches  —  no, 
nor  outside  of  them. 

"  I  am  conscious  of  my  many  imperfections,"  he  said  ; 
"  my  heart  is  heavy  for  the  weakness  and  unworthiness  of 
the  messenger  in  presence  of  the  greatness  of  the  message ; 
but,  sir,  I  do  the  best  I  can,  and  I  only  ask  Him  who 
hath  the  power,  to  give  the  increase." 

"  But  how,"  asked  Jacob  Gullibrand,  "  can  you  expect 
any  increase  when  I  never  see  you  preaching  in  the 
market-place,  proclaiming  at  the  street-corners,  denounc- 
ing upon  a  hundred  platforms  the  sins  of  the  times? 
You  should  speak  to  the  times,  my  good  sir,  you  should 
speak  to  the  times." 

"As  worthy  Dr.  Leighton,  that  root  out  of  a  dry 
ground,  sayeth,"  murmured  our  Doctor  with  a  sweet 
smile,  "  there  be  so  many  that  are  speaking  to  the  times, 
you  might  surely  allow  one  poor  man  to  speak  for 
eternity." 

But  the  quotation  was  thrown  away  upon  Jacob 
Gullibrand. 

"  I  do  not  know  this  Leighton  —  and  I  think  I  am 
acquainted   with   all   the  ministers  who  have  the  root  of 


76  THE   TROUBLER   OF   ISRAEL 

the  matter  in  them  in  this  and  in  other  cities  of  the  king- 
dom. And  I  call  upon  you,  sir,  to  stir  us  up  with  rous- 
ing evangelical  addresses  instead  of  set  sermons.  We 
are  asleep,  and  we  need  awakening." 

"  I  am  all  too  conscious  of  it,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  but 
it  is  not  my  talent." 

"  Then,  if  you  do  know  it,  if  your  conscience  tells  you 
of  your  failure,  why  not  get  in  some  such  preachers  as 
Boanerges  Simpson  of  Maitland,  or  even  throw  open  your 
pulpit  to  some  earnest  merchant-evangelist  such  as  — 
well,  as  myself  ?  " 

But  Mr.  Gullibrand  had  gone  a  step  too  far.  The 
Doctor  could  be  a  Boanerges  also  upon  occasion,  though 
he  walked  always  in  quiet  ways  and  preferred  the  howe 
of  life  to  the  mountain  tops. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  said  firmly  ;  "  no  unqualified  or  unli- 
censed man  shall  ever  preach  in  my  pulpit  so  long  as  I 
am  minister  and  teaching  elder  of  a  Covenant-keeping 
Kirk !  " 

"  We'll  see  about  that !  "  said  Jacob  Gullibrand,  thrust- 
ing out  his  under  lip  over  his  upper  half-way  to  his 
nose.  Then,  seizing  his  tall  hat  and  unrolled  umbrella, 
he  stalked  angrily  out. 

****** 

And  he  kept  his  word.  He  did  see  about  it.  In  Lady 
Nixon's  Wynd  there  was  division.  On  the  one  side 
were  ranged  the  heads  of  families  generally,  the  folk 
staid  and  set  in  the  old  ways  —  "  gospel-hardened  "  the 
Gullibrandites  called  them.  With  the  Doctor  were  the 
old  standards  of  the  Kirk,  getting  a  little  dried,  maybe, 
with  standing  so  long  in  their  post-holes,  but,  so  far  as  in 
them  lay,  faithful  unto  death. 


THE   TEOUBLEK   OF    [SRAEL  77 

But  the  younger  folk  mostly  followed  the  new  light. 
There  were  ;ui\  number  of  Societies,  Gospel  Bands, 
Armies  of  the  Blue  Ribbon,  and  of  the  White — all 
well  and  better  khan  well  in  their  places.  But  beiug 
mostly  imported  wholesale  from  England,  and  all  with- 
out exception  begun,  carried  on,  ami  ended  in  Gullibrand, 
they  were  ou1  of  keeping  with  the  plain-song  psalms  oi 
the  Kirk  of  the  Martyrs.  There  were  teas  also  at 
••  .Mount  Delectable,"  tin- residence  of  Gullibrand,  where, 
after  the  singing  of  many  hymns  and  the  superior  blan- 
dishments of  the  Misses  Gullibrand,  it  was  openly  said 
that  if  the  Kirk  in  Lady  Nixon's  Wynd  was  to  be  pre- 
served, the  Doctor  must  "  go."  He  was  in  the  way.  He 
was  a  fossil.  He  had  no  modern  light.  He  took  no 
interest  in  the  "  Work."  He  would  neither  conduct  a 
campaign  of  street-preaching  nor  allow  an  unordained 
evangelist  into  his  pulpit.  The  Doctor  must  go.  Mr. 
Gullibrand  was  sure  that  a  majority  of  the  congregation 
was  with  him.  But  there  were  qualms  in  many  hearts 
which  even  three  cups  of  Gullibrand's  Coffee  Essence 
warm  could  not  cure. 

After  all,  the  Doctor  was  the  Doctor  —  and  he  had 
baptized  the  most  part  of  those  present.  Besides,  they 
minded  that  time  when  Death  came  into  their  houses  — 
and  also  that  Noble  Presence,  that  saintly  prayer,  that 
uplifted  hand  of  blessing;  but  in  the  psychological 
moment,  with  meet  introduction  from  the  host,  uprose 
the  persecuted  evangelist. 

"  If  he  was  unworthy  to  enter  the  pulpits  of  Laodicean 
ministers,  men  neither  cold  nor  hot.  whom  every  earnest 
evangelist  should"  (here  he  continued  the  quotation  and 
illustrated  it  with  an  appropriate  gesture)  "he  at  least 


78  THE   TROUBLES,   OF  ISRAEL 

thanked  God  that  he  was  no  Doctor  of  Divinity.  Nor 
yet  of  those  who  would  permit  themselves  to  be  dictated 
to  by  self-appointed  and  self-styled  ministers." 

And  so  on,  and  so  on.     The  type  does  not  vary. 

The  petition  or  declaration  already  in  Gullibrand's 
breast  pocket  was  then  produced,  adopted,  and  many  sig- 
natures of  members  and  adherents  were  appended  under 
the  influence  of  that  stirring  appeal.  Great  was  Gulli- 
brand.  The  morning  light  brought  counsel  —  but  it  was 
too  late.     Gullibrand  would  erase  no  name. 

"  You  signed  the  document,  did  you  not  ?  Of  your 
own  free  will  ?     That  is  your  handwriting  ?     Very  well 

then !  " 

*  *  *  #  #  # 

The  blow  fell  on  the  Sabbath  before  the  summer  com- 
munion, always  a  great  time  in  the  little  Zion  in  Lady 
Nixon's  Wynd. 

A  deputation  of  two,  one  being  Jacob  Gullibrand,  elder, 
waited  on  Dr.  Marcus  Lawton  after  the  first  diet  of  wor- 
ship. They  gave  him  a  paper  to  read  in  which  he  was 
tepidly  complimented  upon  his  long  and  faithful  services, 
and  informed  that  the  undersigned  felt  so  great  an  anxi- 
ety for  his  health  that  they  besought  him  to  retire  to  a 
well-earned  leisure,  and  to  permit  a  younger  and  more 
vigorous  man  to  bear  the  burden  and  the  heat  of  the  day. 
(The  choice  of  language  was  Gullibrand's.)  No  mention 
was  made  of  any  retiring  allowance,  nor  yet  of  the  manse, 
in  which  his  father  before  him  had  lived  all  his  life,  and 
in  which  he  himself  had  been  born.  But  these  things 
were  clearly  enough  understood 

"What  need  has  he  of  a  manse  or  of  an  allowance 
either  ?  "  said  Gullibrand.     "  His  family  are  mostly  doing 


THE   TIloriiLEIt   OK    ISRAEL  7'.) 

for  themselves,  and  be  has  qo  doubt  made  considerable 
savings.  Besides  which,  lie  holds  a  comfortable  appoint- 
ment with  a  large  salary,  as  1  have  good  reason  to 
know." 

"But,"  he  added  to  himself,  "he  may  not  hold  thai 
very  long  either.      I  will  teach  any  man  living  to  cross 

Jacob  Gullibrandl" 

#  #  #  *  *  # 

The  Doctor  sat  in  the  little  vestry  with  the  tall  blue 
scroll  spread  out  before:  him.  The  light  of  the  day  sud- 
denly seemed  to  have  grown  dim,  and  somehow  he  could 
hardly  see  to  smooth  out  the  curled  edges. 

"  It  is  surely  raining  without,*'  said  the  Doctor,  and 
lighted  the  gas  with  a  shaking  hand.  He  looked  down 
the  list  of  names  of  members  and  adherents  appended  to 
the  request  that  he  should  retire.  The  written  letters 
danced  a  little  before  his  eyes,  and  he  adjusted  his 
glasses  more  firmly. 

"William  Gilmour,  elder,"  he  murmured;  "ah,  his 
father  was  at  school  with  me;  I  mind  that  I  baptized 
William  the  year  I  was  ordained.  He  was  a  boy  at  my 
Bible-class,  a  clever  boy,  too.  I  married  him  ;  and  he 
came  in  here  and  grat  like  a  bairn  when  his  first  wife 
died,  sitting  on  that  chair.  I  called  on  the  Lord  to  help 
AVilliam  Gilmour  —  and  now  —  he  wants  me  away." 

"  Jacob  Gullibrand,  elder." 

The  Doctor  passed  the  name  of  his  persecutor  without 
a  comment. 

"Christopher  Begbie,  manager.  He  was  kind  to  me 
the  year  the  bairns  died." 

(Such  was  Christopher's  testimony.  The  year  before 
I  went  to  Edinburgh  the   Doctor  had  lost  a  well-beloved 


80  THE   TROUBLER   OF   ISEAEL 

wife  and  two  children,  within  a  week  of  each  other.  He 
preached  the  Sabbath  after  on  the  text,  "  All  thy  waves 
have  gone  over  me ! "  Christopher  Begbie,  manager,  had 
been  kind  then.     Pass,  Christopher  !) 

"  Robert  Armstrong,  manager.  Mine  own  familiar 
friend  in  whom  I  trusted,"  said  the  Doctor,  and  stared 
at  the  lozenges  of  the  window  till  coloured  spots  danced 
before  his  kind  old  eyes.  "Robert  Armstrong,  for 
whose  soul  I  wrestled  even  as  Jacob  with  his  Maker ; 
Robert  Armstrong  that  walked  with  me  through  the 
years  together,  and  with  whom  I  have  had  so  much 
sweet  communion,  even  Robert  also  does  not  think  me 
longer  fit  to  break  the  bread  of  life  among  these 
people ! " 

Pass,  Robert !  There  is  that  on  the  blue  foolscap 
which  the  Doctor  hastened  to  wipe  away  with  his  sleeve. 
But  it  is  doubtful  if  such  drops  are  ever  wholly  wiped 
away. 

"  John  Malcolm  —  ah,  John,  I  do  not  wonder.  Per- 
haps I  was  over  faithful  with  thee,  John.  But  it  was 
for  thy  soul's  good.  Yet  I  did  not  think  that  the  son  of 
thy  father  would  bear  malice  ! " 

"Margaret  Fountainhall,  Elizabeth  Fountainhall  — 
the  children  of  many  prayers.  Their  mother  was  a 
godly  woman  indeed  ;  and  you,  too,  Margaret  and  Eliza- 
beth, would  sit  under  a  younger  man.  I  mind  when  I 
prepared  you  together  for  your  first  communion !  " 

The  Doctor  sighed  and  bent  his  head  lower  upon  the 
paper.  "Ebenezer  Redp.ath,  James  Bannatyne,  Samuel 
Gardiner"  —  he  passed  the  names  rapidly,  till  be  came 
to  one  —  "  Isobel  Swan." 

The  Doctor  smiled  at  the  woman's  name.     It  was  the 


THE   TROUBLEB    OF    [SRAEL  SI 

first  time  he  had  Bmiled  since  they  gave  him  the  paper 

and  lie  realised  what  was  written  there. 

"Ah,  Isobel,"  he  murmured,  "once  in  a  far-off  day 
you  did  not  think  as  now  you  think  !  " 

And  he  saw  himself,  a  slim  stripling  in  his  fatln  r'a 
pew,  and  across  the  aisle  a  girl  who  worshipped  him 
with  her  eyes.  And  so  the  Doctor  passed  from  the 
n::me  of  Isobel  Swan,  still  smiling — but  kindly  and  gra- 
ciously, for  our  Doctor  had  it  not  in  him  to  be  anything 
else. 

He  glanced  his  eye  up  and  down  the  list.  He  seemed 
to  miss  something. 

"Henry  Walker,  treasurer — I  do  not  see  thy  name, 
Henry.  Many  is  the  hard  battle  I  have  had  with  thee 
in  the  Session,  Henry.  Dost  thou  not  -want  thine  old 
adversary  out  of  thy  path  once  and  for  all  ?  And  Mary, 
thy  wife?  Tart  is  thy  tongue,  Mary,  but  sweet  as  a 
hazel-nut  in  the  front  of  October  thy  true  heart ! " 

"Thomas  Baillie  —  where  art  thou,  true  Thomas? 
I  crossed  thee  in  the  matter  of  the  giving  out  of  the 
eleventh  paraphrase,  Thomas.  Yet  T  do  not  see  thy 
name.  Is  it  possible  that  thou  hast  forgotten  the 
nearer  ill  and  looked  back  on  the  days  of  old,  when 
Allan  Symington  with  Gilbert  his  brother,  and  thou 
and  I,  Thomas  Baillie,  went  to  the  house  of  God  in  com- 
pany? No,  these  things  are  not  forgotten.  I  thank 
God  for  that.     The  name  of  Thomas  Baillie  is  not  here." 

And  the  Doctor  folded  up  the  blue  crackling  paper 
and  placed  it  carefully  between  the  "leds"  of  the  great 
pulpit  Bible. 

"It  is  the  beginning  of  the  week  of  Communion,"  he 
said;    "'it   is   not   meet   that   I    should    mingle   secular 


82  THE   TBOUBLER   OF   ISRAEL 

thoughts  with  the  memory  of  the  broken  body  and  the 
shed  blood.  On  your  knees,  Marcus  Lawton,  and  ask 
forgiveness  for  your  repining  and  discriminating  among 
the  sheep  of  the  flock  -whom  it  is  yours  to  feed  on  a  com- 
ing Lord's  day;  and  are  they  not  all  yours  — your 
responsibility,  your  care,  aye,  Marcus  —  even  —  even 
Jacob  Gullibrand  ?  " 

It  was  the  Sabbath  of  High  Communion  in  the  Kirk 
of  the  Covenants.  JSTixon's  Wynd,  ordinarily  so  grim 
and  bare,  so  gritty  underfoot  and  so  narrow  overhead, 
now  seemed  to  many  a  spacious  way  to  heaven,  down 
which  walked  the  elect  of  the  Lord  in  a  way  literally 
narrow,  and  literally  steep,  and  literally  closed  with  a 
gate  at  which  few,  very  few,  went  in. 

A  full  hour  too  soon  they  began  to  arrive,  strange 
quaint  figures  some  of  them,  gathered  from  the  nooks 
and  corners  of  the  old  town.  They  arrived  in  twos  and 
threes  —  the  children's  children  of  the  young  plants  of 
grace  who  saw  Claverhouse  ride  down  the  West  Bow  on 
his  way  to  Killiecrankie.  As  far  as  Leith  walk  you 
might  know  them,  bent  a  little,  mostly  coopers  in  the 
Trongate,  wrights  in  the  Kirk  Wynd,  ships'  carpenters 
at  the  Port.  They  had  their  little  " King's  Printer" 
Bibles  in  the  long  tails  of  their  blue  coats  —  for  black 
had  not  yet  come  in  to  make  uniform  all  the  congrega- 
tions of  every  creed.  But  the  mistress,  walking  a  little 
behind,  carried  her  Bible  decently  wrapped  in  a  white 
napkin  along  with  a  sprig  of  southern-wood. 

All  that  Sabbath  day  there  hung,  palpable  and  almost 
visible,  about  Nixon's  Wynd  a  sweet  savour  as  of 
"  Naphtali,"  and  the  Persecutions,  and  Last  Testimonies 


TILE   TROUBLES    or    [SRAEL  ;s:: 

in  the  Grassmarket;  bat  in  the  Bhrine  itself  there  was 
nothing  grim,  but  only  graciousness  and  consolation  and 
the  sense  oi'  the  living  presence  of  the  Hope  of  [srael. 
For  our  Doctor  was  there  sitting  throned  among  his 
elders.  The  snn  shone  through  the  narrow  windows, 
and  just  over  the  wall,  if  it  were  your  good  fortune  to 
he  near  those  on  the  left-hand  .side,  you  could  see  the 
top  of  the  Martyrs'  monument  in  the  kirkyard  of  Old 
Grej  friars. 

It  was  great  to  see  the  Doctor  on  such  days,  great  to 
hear  him.  Beneath,  the  white  cloths  glimmered  fair 
on  the  scarred  book  boards,  bleached  clean  in  honour 
of  the  breaking  of  holy  bread.  The  silver  cups,  ancient 
as  Drumclog  and  Shalloch,  so  they  said,  shone  on  the 
table  of  communion,  and  we  all  looked  at  them  when  the 
Doctor  said  the  solemn  and  mysterious  words,  "  wine  on 
the  lees  well  refined." 

For  there  are  no  High  Churchmen  so  truly  high  as  the 
men  of  the  little  protesting  covenanting  remnants  of  the 
Reformation  Kirk  of  Scotland;  none  so  jealous  in  guard- 
ing the  sacraments;  none  that  can  weave  about  them 
such  a  mantle  of  awe  and  reverence. 

The  Doctor  was  concluding  his  after-table  address. 
Very  reverend  and  noble  he  looked,  his  white  hair  falling 
down  on  his  shoulders,  his  hands  ever  and  anon  waver- 
ing to  a  blessing,  his  voice  now  rising  sonorous  as  a 
trumpet,  but  mostly  of  flute-like  sweetness  in  keeping 
with  his  words.  He  never  spoke  of  any  subject  but  one 
on  such  a  day.     That  was,  the  love  of  Christ. 

"  Fifty-one  summer  communions  have  I  been  with  you 
in  this  place,"  so  he  concluded,  "breaking  the  bread  . 
speaking   the  word.     Fifty-one  years  to-day  is  it  since 


84  THE   TROUBLER   OF   ISRAEL 

my  father  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  up  yonder  to 
sit  by  his  side.  Few  there  be  here  in  the  flesh  this  day 
who  saw  that.  But  there  are  some.  Of  such  I  see 
around  me  three  —  Henry  Walker,  and  Robert  Armstrong, 
and  John  Malcolm.  It  is  fitting  that  those  who  saw 
the  beginning  should  see  the  end." 

At  these  words  a  kind  of  sough  passed  over  the  folk. 
You  have  seen  the  wind  passing  over  a  field  of  ripe  bar- 
ley. Well,  it  was  like  that.  From  my  place  in  the 
gallery  I  could  see  set  faces  whiten,  shoulders  suddenly 
stoop,  as  the  whole  congregation  bent  forward  to  catch 
every  word.  A  woman  sobbed.  It  was  Isobel  Swan. 
The  white  faces  turned  angrily  as  if  to  chide  a  trouble- 
some child. 

"It  has  come  upon  me  suddenly,  dear  friends,"  the 
Doctor  went  on,  "  even  as  I  hope  that  Death  itself  will. 
Sudden  as  any  death  it  hath  been,  and  more  bitter.  For 
myself  I  was  not  conscious  of  failing  energies,  of  natural 
strength  abated.  But  yon,  dear  friends,  have  seen  clearer 
than  I  the  needs  of  the  Kirk  of  the  Covenants.  One 
hundred  and  six  years  Marcus  Lawtons  have  ministered 
in  this  place.  From  to-day  they  shall  serve  tables  no 
more.  Once  —  and  not  so  long  ago,  it  seems,  looking 
back  —  I  had  a  son  of  my  body,  a  plant  reared  amid 
hopes  and  prayers  and  watered  with  tears.  The  Lord 
gave.  The  Lord  took.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord." 

There  ensued  a  silence,  deep,  still  —  yet  somehow  also 
throbbing,  expectant.  Isobel  Swan  did  not  sob  again. 
She  had  hidden  her  face. 

"And  now  my  last  word.  After  fifty-one  years  of 
service  in  this  place,  it  is  hard  to  come  to  the  end  of  the 


THE    TKOUBLEK    OF    [SRAEL  86 

hindmost  farrow,  to  drop  the  hand  from  the  plough, 
never  more  to  go  forth  in  the  morning  as  the  sower  sow- 
ing precious  seed." 

"No  —  no —  no  !" 

It  was  not  only  Isobel  Swan  now,  but  the  whole  con- 
gregation. Here  and  there,  back  and  forth,  subdued, 
repressed,  ashamed,  but  irresistible,  the  murmur  ran; 
but  the  Doctor's  voice  did  not  shake. 

"Fifty-one  years  of  unworthy  service,  my  friends - 
what  of  that  ?  —  a  moment  in  the  eternity  of  God. 
Never  again  shall  I  meet  you  here  as  your  minister ;  but 
I  charge  you  that  when  we  meet  in  That  Day  you  will 
bear  me  witness  whether  I  have  loved  houses  or  lands, 
or  father  or  mother,  or  wife  or  children  better  than  you  ! 
And  now,  fare  you  well.  The  memory  of  bygone  com- 
munions, of  hours  of  refreshment  and  prayer  in  this 
sacred  place,  of  death-beds  blessed  and  unforgotten  in 
your  homes  shall  abide  with  me  as  they  shall  abide  with 
you.  The  Lord  send  among  you  a  worthier  servant  than 
Marcus  Lawton,  your  fellow-labourer  and  sometime  min- 
ister. Again,  and  for  the  last  time,  fare  you  well !  " 
****** 

It  was  a  strange  communion.  The  silver  cups  still 
stood  on  the  table,  battered,  but  glistening.  The  plates 
of  bread  that  had  been  blessed  were  beside  them.  The 
elders  sat  around.  A  low  inarticulate  murmur  of  agony 
travelled  about  the  little  kirk  as  the  Doctor  sat  down 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  as  was  his  custom 
after  pronouncing  the  benediction. 

Then  in  the  strange  hush  uprose  the  tall  angular  form 
of  William  Gilmour  from  the  midst  of  the  Session,  his 
bushy  eye-brows  working  and  twitching. 


86  THE   TEOUBLER   OF   ISRAEL 

"  Oh,  sir,"  he  said,  in  forceful  jerks  of  speech,  "dinna 
leave  us.  I  signed  the  paper  under  a  misapprehension. 
The  Lord  forgive  me !  I  withdraw  my  name.  Jacob 
Gullibrand  may  dischairge  me  if  he  likes!" 

He  sat  down  as  abruptly  as  he  had  risen. 

Then  there  was  a  kind  of  commotion  all  over  the  con- 
gregation. One  after  another  rose  and  spoke  after  their 
kind,  some  vehemently,  some  with  shamed  faces. 

"  And  I ! "  "  And  I ! "  "  And  I ! "  cried  a  dozen  at  a 
time.  "  Bide  with  us,  Doctor  !  We  cannot  want  you ! 
Pray  for  us ! " 

Then  Henry  Walker,  the  white-haired,  sharp-featured 
treasurer  and  precentor  of  Nixon's  Wynd,  stretched  out 
his  hand.  The  Doctor  had  been  speaking,  as  is  the 
custom,  not  from  the  pulpit,  but  from  the  communion 
table  about  which  the  elders  sat.  He  had  held  the 
Gullibrand  manifesto  in  his  hand;  but  ere  he  lifted 
them  up  in  his  final  blessing  he  had  dropped  it. 

Henry  Walker  took  it  and  stood  up. 

"  Is  it  your  will  that  I  tear  this  paper  ?  Those  con- 
trary keep  their  seats  —  those  agreeable,  STAND  UP  ! " 

As  one  man  the  whole  congregation  stood  up. 

All,  that  is,  save  Jacob  Gullibrand.  He  sat  a  moment, 
and  then  amid  a  silence  which  could  be  felt,  he  rose  and 
staggered  out  like  a  man  suddenly  smitten  with  sore 
sickness.     He  never  set  foot  in  Nixon's  Wynd  again. 

Henry  Walker  waited  till  the  door  had  closed  upon  the 
Troubler  of  Israel,  the  paper  still  in  his  hand.  Then 
very  solemnly  he  tore  it  into  shreds  and  trampled  them 
under  foot. 

He  waited  a  moment  for  the  Doctor  to  speak,  but  he 
did  not. 


THE   TROUBLER   OF    ESRAEL  ^7 

"And  you,  also,  will  withdraw  your  resignati- n  ami 
stay  with  as  ?  "  he  said. 

The  Doctor  could  not  answer  in  words;  but  he  nodded 
his  head.  It  was,  indeed,  the  desire  of  his  heart.  Then 
in  a  loud  anil  surprising  voice  —  jubilant,  and  yet  with  a 
kind  of  godly  anger  iu  it,  Henry  Walker  gave  out  the 
closing  psalm. 

"  All  people  that  on  earth  do  dwell, 

Sing  to  the  Lord  with  cheerful  voice  ; 
Him  serve  with  mirth,  His  praise  forthtell, 
Come  ye  before  Him  and  rejoice!  " 


C AERATION'S   MORNING  JOY 

This  is  the  story  of  the  little  white-washed  cottage  at 
the  top  of  the  brae  a  mile  or  so  before  you  come  into 
Cairn  Edward.  It  is  a  love  story,  a  simple  and  unevent- 
ful one,  quickly  told. 

The  cottage  is  not  now  what  it  was  —  I  fear  to  say 
how  many  years  ago  —  when  I  was  wont  to  drive  in  to 
the  Cameronian  Kirk  on  summer  Sabbaths  in  the  red 
farm  cart.  Then  not  only  I,  but  every  one  used  to  watch 
from  far  for  the  blue  waft  of  reek  going  up  as  we  sighted 
the  white  gable-end  far  away. 

"  Carnation's  Cottage ! "  we  used  to  call  it,  and  even 
my  father,  Cameronian  elder  as  he  was,  smiled  when  he 
passed  it. 

It  was  so  named  because  a  girl  once  lived  there  whose 
fame  for  worth  and  beauty  had  travelled  very  far.  Her 
name  was  Carnation  Maybold,  a  combination  which  at 
once  tells  its  tale  of  no  countryside  origin.  Carnation's 
father  was  a  railroad  engineer  who  had  come  from  Eng- 
land and  married  a  farmer's  daughter  in  a  neighbouring 
parish.  Then  when  Carnation's  mother  died  in  child- 
birth, he  had  called  his  one  daughter  by  the  name  of  his 
wife's  favourite  flower. 

"  What  for  do  ye  no  caa'  her  Jessie  like  her  mither  ?  " 
said  the  ancient  dame  who  had  come  to  keep  his  house. 

"  Because  I  never  want  to  hear  that  name   again ! " 

88 


CARNATION'S   MORNING    JO?  89 

Engineer  MayboM  had  said.     For  he  had  l><-«-n  wrapped 
up  in  his  wife. 

Carnation  May  bold  lost  her  father,  the  imaginal 
man  and  second-rate  engineer,  when  she  was  thirteen,  a 
tall  slim  slip  of  a  girl,  with  a  face  like  a  flower  and  a 
cheek  that  already  had  upon  it  the  blush  of  her  name. 
Old  Tibbie  Lockhart  dwelt  with  her,  and  defenced  the 
orphan  maid  about  more  securely  than  a  city  set  with 
walls.  The  girl  went  a  mile  to  the  Cairn  Edward  Acad- 
emy, where  she  was  already  in  the  first  girls'  class,  and 
John  Charles  Morrison  carried  the  green  bag  which  held 
her  books.  In  addition  to  this,  being  strongly  built,  he 
thrashed  any  boy  who  laughed  at  him  for  doing  so. 
John  Charles  was  three  years  older  than  his  girl  friend, 
and  had  the  distinct  beginnings  of  a  moustache  in  da\  s 
when  Carnation  still  wore  her  hair  in  a  long  plaited  tail 
down  her  back  —  for  in  those  days  Gretchen  braids  were 
the  fashion. 

It  is  curious  to  remember  that,  while  all  the  other  girls 
were  Megs  and  Katies,  Madges  and  Jennies,  Carnation 
Maybold's  first  name  knew  no  diminutive.  She  was, 
and  has  remained,  just  Carnation.  That  is  enough.  She 
was  fifteen  when  John  Charles  was  sent  to  college. 
After  that  she  carried  her  own  books  both  wa\  s. 
She  had  offers  from  several  would-be  successors  to  the 
honourable  service,  but  she  accepted  none.  Besides,  she 
was  thinking  of  putting  her  hair  up. 

When  John  Charles  came  home  in  the  windy  close  of 
the  following  March,  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  put 
the  little  box  which  contained  his  class  medal  into  his 
vest  pocket,  and  hasten  down  the  road  to  meet  <  lamation. 
His  father  was  at  market.     His  mother  (a  peevish,  com- 


90  CARNATION'S   MORNING  JOY 

plaining,  pretty ish  woman)  was  in  bed  with  sick  head- 
ache, and  not  to  be  disturbed.  But  there  remained 
Carnation.     The  returned  scholar  asked  no  better. 

The  heart  of  John  Charles  beat  as  he  kept  the  wider 
side  of  the  turns  of  the  road  that  he  might  the  sooner 
spy  her  in  front  of  him.  She  was  only  a  slip  of  a  school- 
girl and  he  a  penniless  student  —  but  nevertheless  his 
heart  beat. 

Did  he  love  her  ?  No,  he  knew  that  he  had  never 
uttered  the  word  in  her  hearing,  and  that  if  he  had,  she 
was  too  young  to  know  its  meaning.  She  was  just  Car- 
nation —  and  —  and,  how  his  heart  beat ! 

But  still  the  wintry  trees  stood  gaunt  and  spectral  on 
either  hand.  He  passed  them  as  in  a  dream,  his  soul 
bent  on  the  next  twist  of  the  red-gray  sandy  ribbon  of 
road,  that  was  flung  so  unscientifically  about  among  the 
copses  and  pastures. 

There  she  was  at  last  —  taller,  lissomer  than  ever,  her 
green  bag  swinging  in  her  hand  and  a  gay  lilt  of  a  tune 
upon  her  lips. 

"  Carnation  !  " 

She  did  not  answer  him  by  any  word.  Instead,  she 
stood  silent  with  the  song  stilled  mid-flight  upon  her 
lips.      She  smiled  happily,  however,  as   he   came  near. 

"Carnation!"  he  cried  again.  And  there  was  some- 
thing shining  in  the  lad's  eyes  which  she  had  never  seen 
there  before. 

She  held  out  the  green  bag.  Then  she  turned  her 
elbow  towards  him  with  a  certain  defensive  instinct. 

"  Here,  take  my  books,  John  Charles  !  "  she  said,  as  if 
he  had  never  been  away ;  and  with  no  more  than  that 
they  began  to  walk  homeward  together. 


CARNATIONS    MOUNINU   JOY  91 

"Are  you  not  glad  to  see  me  '.'  '•'  be  asked  presently. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed  —  very  glad!"  she  answered,  Lool 
at   the   ground;  "you  will  be  able   to  carry  my  books 
again,  you  see  !  " 

"  Who  has  car  lied  them  while  I  have  been  away  ?  " 

"  Carried  them  myself !  " 

"  For  true  ?  " 

"Honour!" 

John  Charles  breathed  so  long  a  breath  that  it  was 
almost  a  sigh.     Carnation  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  Why,  you  have  grown  a  moustache,"  she  said,  smil- 
ing a  quick,  radiant  smile. 

"And  you  —  you  are  different,  too.     What  is  it?"  he 
returned,  gazing  openly  at  her,  as  indeed  he  had  b( 
doing  ever  since  they  met.      She  turned  her   face  piq- 
uantly  towards  him.     It  was  like  a  flower.     A  faint  p 
fume  seemed  to  breathe  about  the  boy,  making  his  brain 
whirl. 

"Not  grown  a  moustache,  anyway,"  Carnation  said, 
tauntingly. 

And  she  roguishly  twirled  imaginary  tips  between  her 
finger  and  thumb. 

"Let  me  see!"  said  John  Charles,  drawing  nearer  as 
if  to  examine  into  the  facts. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Carnation  hastily,  fending  him  off 
with  a  glance,  "  I'm  grown  up  now,  and  it's  different ! 
Besides " 

And  she  glanced  behind  her  along  the  rod-gray  ribbon 
of  dusty  road,  along  which  for  lack  of  company  the  March 
diist  was  dancing  little  jigs  of  its  own. 

"  Why  different  ?  "  began  John  Charles,  thrusting  his 
hands  deep  into  his  pockets. 


92  CARNATION'S   MORNING  JOY 

"  Well,  don't  you  see,  stupid  ?  "  she  gave  her  head  a 
pretty  coquettish  turn,  "  I've  got  my  hair  up  ! " 
*  *  *  *  #  * 

After  this  they  walked  somewhat  moodily  along  a 
while.  Or,  at  least  the  young  man  was  moody  and 
silent,  while  Carnation  only  smiled  sedately,  and  some- 
thing, perhaps  a  certain  bitter  easting  in  the  wind,  made 
her  cheeks  more  flowerlike  and  reminiscent  of  her  name 
than  ever. 

"  Carnation,"  he  said  at  last,  "  why  are  we  not  to  be 
friends  any  more  ?  Why  have  you  grown  away  from 
me?  You  are  three  years  younger  —  and  yet  —  you 
seem  older  somehow  to-day  —  years  and  years  older." 

"Well,  what  more  do  you  want  —  aren't  you  carrying 
my  bag  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself  —  what  have  you  been 
doing?"     He   changed   the  subject. 

"  Going  to  school  —  let  me  see,  six  twenties  are  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty.  Coming  back  another  hundred  and 
twenty  times.  Two  hundred  and  forty  trudges,  and  the 
bag  growing  heavier  all  the  time !  It  is  quite  time  you 
came  back,  John  Charles  ! " 

"Carnation,  dear,"  with  trepidation  he  ventured  the 
adjective,  "  I  have  something  to  show  you  that  nobody 
has  seen  —  what  will  you  give  me  if  I  show  it  you  ?  " 

"I  shan't  give  you  anything;  but  you  can  show  me 
and  see,"  was  the  somewhat  inconsequent  reply. 

"  Come  here  then,  by  the  end  of  the  house." 

They  had  arrived  at  Carnation's  cottage,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  eye  of  Tibbie  Lockhart  out  of  the 
kitchen  window  was  upon  the  youth. 

"  I  shan't  —  show  it   to   me   here !  "    said   Carnation, 


CARNATIONS    RIOKNING    JOY  93 

swinging  the  bag  of  books  through  the  open   fronl  door 
in  a  (usual  and  school-girlish  manner. 

"I  can't.  !  don't  want  Tibbie  to  know  aboul  it  — 
nobody  but  you  must  see  it!" 

"Are  you  sun-  nobody  has  seen  it  —  no  girl  in  Edin- 
burgh —  nobody  in  Cairn  Edward  ?  " 

"No  one  at  all  —  not  even  my  mother,  not  since  I 
it.     I  kept  it  for  you,  Carnation." 

"  Is  it  very  pretty  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  pretty !  Come  in  here ;  you  will  be  sorry 
if  you  don't ! " 

"Well,  I  will  come  —  just  for  a  moment!  " 

They  went  round  to  the  gable  of  the  cottage  where, 
being  sheltered  from  the  wind,  a  couple  of  sentinel  Irish 
yews  grew  tall  and  erect.  Between  them  there  was  a 
little  bower.  John  Charles  took  the  little  flat  box  out  of 
his  pocket  and  opened  it. 

A  gold  class  medal  lay  within,  not  fitting  very  well 
on  account  of  a  thin  blue  ribbon  which  the  proprietor 
had  strung  through  a  clasp  at  the  top. 

"  Oh/'  said  Carnation  with  a  gasp,  "  it  is  lovely.  Is  it 
gold  ?  Why,  it  has  your  name  on.  It  is  the  medal  of 
the  class.     How  proud  your  father  and  mother  will  be  ! " 

And  she  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed,  but  did  not 
offer  to  take  it  in  her  fingers. 

"No,  indeed,  that  they  won't,"  said  John  Charles 
grimly ;  "  they  won't  ever  know,  and  if  they  did  they 
wouldn't  care.  I  am  not  going  to  tell  them  or  any  one. 
I  won  it  for  you.  All  the  time  I  was  working  I  kept 
saying  to  myself,  'If  I  win  the  medal  I  shall  give  it  to 
Carnation  to  wear  round  her  neck  on  a  blue  ribbon  — 
because  blue  is  her  colour '  " 


94  CARNATION'S   MORNING  JOY 

"  Oh,  but  I  could  not ! "  cried  the  girl,  going  back  a 
step  or  two,  "  I  dare  not !  Any  one  might  see  and  read 
—  what  is  written  on  it." 

"  You  needn't  wear  it  outside,  Carnation,"  he  pleaded, 
in  a  low  tone ;  "  see,  I  put  the  ribbon  through  it  that 
you  might." 

"  It  is  pretty  "  —  her  face  had  a  kind  of  inner  shining 
upon  it,  and  her  eyes  glittered  darkly  — "  it  was  very 
nice  of  you  to  think  about  me  —  not  that  I  believe  for  a 
moment  you  really  did.  Eut,  indeed,  indeed,  I  can't 
take  it " 

The  face  of  John  Charles  Morrison  fell.  His  jaw,  a 
singularly  determined  one,  began  to  square  itself. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  flirting  the  ribbon  out  of  the 
clasp  and  throwing  the  box  on  the  ground,  "  do  you  see 
that  pond  down  there  ?  As  sure  as  daith  "  (he  used  the 
old  school-boy  oath  of  asseveration)  "I'll  throw  it  in 
that  pond  if  ye  dinna  tak'  it ! " 

Something  very  like  a  sob  came  into  the  lad's  throat. 

"And  I  worked  so  hard  for  it.  And  I  thought  you 
would  have  liked  it !  " 

"  I  do  like  it  —  I  do  —  I  do !  "  cried  Carnation,  agonised 
and  affrayed. 

"  No,  you  don't !  " 

"  Give  it  me,  then  —  don't  look ! " 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  for  a  long  moment 
her  fingers  were  busy  about  her  neck. 

"  Now ! » 

She  faced  about,  the  light  of  a  showery  April  in  her 
eyes.  She  was  smiling  and  blushing  at  the  same  time. 
There  was  just  a  faint  gleam  of  blue  ribbon  where  the 
division  of  the  white  collar  came  in  front  of  her  throat. 


CARNATION'S    MORNING   JOY  95 

John  Charles  recognised  that  the  moment  for  which 
he  had  striven  all  through  tin'  winter  had  come.  Be 
stooped  and  kissed  her  where  she  stood.     Then  he  turned 

on  his  heel  and  walked  silently  away,  leaving  her  three 
times  Carnation  and  a  school-girl  no  more. 

She  watched  him  out  of  sight,  the  vivid  blush  slowly 
fading  from  her  face,  and  then  went  demurely  within. 

'•  Where  gat  ye  that  ribbon  wi'  the  wee  guinea  piece 
at  the  end  o't  ? "  said  guardian  Tibbie  that  night,  sug- 
gestively. 

"  I  know ;  but  I  promised  not  to  tell ! "  quoth  the  witch, 
who,  indeed,  twisted  the  shrewish-tongued  old  woman 
round  her  finger. 

"But  I  think  I  can  guess," said  Tibbie  shrewdly;  "gin 
that  blue  ribbon  wasna  coft  in  Edinbra  toon,  I'se  string 
anither  gowden  guinea  upon  it!  " 

But  Carnation  Maybold  only  smiled  and  pouted  her 
lips,  as  if  at  a  pleasant  memory. 

^  7C  *)F  -7P  "fr  TT 

From  sixteen  to  twenty-six  is  more  than  a  full  half  of 
the  period  of  life  to  which  we  give  the  name  of  girlhood. 
But  at  twenty-six  Carnation  Maybold  was  Carnation 
Maybold  still.  Yet  there  had  been  no  breaking  off,  no 
failure  in  the  steadfastness  of  that  early  affection  which 
had  sent  John  Charles  along  the  dusty  road  to  carry  the 
school-bag  of  green  baize. 

But  the  medallist  never  returned  to  college.  During 
the  early  falling  twilight  of  the  next  Hint  o'  Hairst  (or 
end  of  harvest),  his  father,  Gawain  Morrison,  driving 
homeward  from  market  all  too  mellow,  brake  neck-bone 
over  the  crags  of  the  Witch's  pool. 

So,   his  mother  being   a   feeble    woman,  though   still 


96  CARNATION'S   MORNING   JOY 

young  and  buxom;  John  Charles  had  perforce  to  bide 
at  home  and  shoulder  the  responsibilities  of  a  farm  of 
two  thousand  pastoral  acres  and  a  rent  of  i?800,  payable 
twice  a  year  in  Cairn  Edward  town. 

It  was  a  sore  burden  for  such  young  shoulders,  but 
John  Charles  had  grit  in  him,  and,  what  made  his  heart 
glad,  he  could  do  most  of  his  work,  by  lea  rig  and 
pasturage,  within  sight  of  a  certain  cottage  where  dwelt 
the  maid  with  a  ribbon  of  blue  about  her  neck. 

There  was  no  possibility  of  any  marriage,  nor,  indeed, 
talk  of  any  between  them,  and  that  for  two  good  rea- 
sons :  Gawain  Morrison  had  died  in  debt.  He  was 
"behindhand  at  the  Bank,"  and  Ins  farm  and  stock  were 
left  to  his  widow  at  her  own  disposition,  unless  she 
should  marry  again,  in  which  case  they  were  willed  to 
his  son  John  Charles  Morrison,  presently  student  of  arts 
in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  The  will  had  been 
made  during  the  one  winter  that  son  had  spent  away 
from  home. 

John  Charles'  bitter  hour  in  the  bank  at  Cairn  Edward 
was  sweetened  by  the  sympathy  and  kindliness  of  Henry 
Marchbanks,  who,  being  one  of  the  best  judges  of  char- 
acter in  Scotland,  saw  cause  to  give  this  young  man  a 
chance  to  discharge  his  father's  liabilities. 

At  twenty-five  John  Charles  was  once  more  a  free 
man,  and  there  was  a  substantial  balance  to  his  mother's 
credit  in  the  bank  of  Cairn  Edward.  Penny  of  his  own 
he  had  not  received  one  for  all  his  five  years'  work. 

But  Mrs.  Morrison  was  that  most  foolish  of  women- 
kind —  an  old  woman  striving  to  appear  young.  She 
had  taken  a  strong  dislike  to  the  girl  mistress  of  the 
white  cottage  at  her  gates,  and  was  never  tired  of  rail- 


CARNATION'S    MORNING   .JOY  07 

ing  at  her  pretensions  to  beauty,  at  her  lightheadedne 
and  at  the  suitors  who  stayed  their  horses  for  a  word  or 
a  flower  from  across  the  cropped  yew  hedge  of  Carnation 
Maybold's  cottage. 

But  John  Charles,  steadfast  in  all  things,  was  particu- 
larly admirable  in  his  silences.  He  let  his  mother  rail 
on,  and  then,  at  the  quiet  hour  of  e'en  stole  down  to  the 
dyke-side  for  a  "  word."  He  never  entered  Carnation's 
dwelling,  nor  did  he  even  pass  the  girdling  hedge  of  yew 
and  privet.  But  there  was  one  place  where  the  defences 
were  worn  low.  Behind  the  Avell  curb  occurred  this 
breach  of  continuity  in  the  dead  engineer's  hedges,  and 
to  this  place  night  after  night  through  the  years,  that 
quiet  steadfast  lover,  John  Charles  Morrison,  came  to 
touch  the  hand  of  his  mistress. 

She  did  not  always  meet  him.  Sometimes  she  had 
girl  friends  with  her  in  the  cottage,  sometimes  she  had 
been  carried  off  to  a  merry-making  in  Cairn  Edward,  to 
return  under  suitable  escort  in  the  evening. 

But  even  then  Carnation  had  a  comfortable  sense  of 
safety,  for  ever  since  one  unforgotten  night,  Carnation 
knew  that  in  any  danger  she  had  only  to  raise  her  voice 
to  bring  to  her  rescue  a  certain  tall  broad-shouldered 
ghost,  which  with  attendant  collies  haunted  the  gray 
hillsides. 

That  night  was  one  on  which  a  tramp,  denied  an  alms, 
had  seized  the  girl  by  the  arm  within  half  a  mile  of 
her  home.  And  at  the  voice  of  her  sharp  crying,  a  dif- 
ferent John  Charles  from  any  she  had  ever  seen  had 
swung  himself  over  the  hillside  dyke,  and  descended  like 
an  avenging  whirlwind  upon  the  assailant. 

Yet  so  secretive  is  the  country  lover,  that  few  save  an 


98  CARNATION'S   MORNING   JOY 

odd  shepherd  or  two  of  his  own  suspected  the  comrade- 
ship which  existed  between  these  two.  Carnation  was 
in  great  request  at  concerts  and  church  bazaars  in  the 
little  neighbouring  town ;  she  even  went  to  a  local 
"  assembly "  or  two  every  winter,  under  the  sheltering 
wing  of  a  school  friend  who  had  married  early. 

John  Charles  did  not  dance,  so  he  was  not  asked  to 
these.  He  was  thought,  indeed,  to  be  rather  a  grave 
young  fellow,  busied  with  his  farm  and  his  books.  No 
one  connected  his  name  with  that  of  his  fair  and  sprightly 
neighbour. 

Yet  somehow,  in  spite  of  many  opportunities,  Carna- 
tion Maybold  did  not  marry.  She  was  bright,  cultivated, 
winsome,  and  certainly  the  prettiest  girl  for  miles  around. 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  a  prince  ?  "  little  Mrs.  George 
Walter,  her  friend  of  the  assemblies,  had  said  to  her  more 
than  once. 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Carnation,  "  the  true  Prince  !  " 

"  I  suppose  that  is  why  you  always  wear  a  ribbon  of 
true  blue  ?  "  retorted  her  friend.  "  Do  let  me  see  what 
is  at  the  end  of  it  —  ah,  you  will  not  ?  I  think  you  are 
very  mean,  Carnation.  All  is  over  between  us  from  this 
moment.  I'm  sure  I  came  and  told  you  as  soon  as  ever 
George  spoke  !  " 

"  But  perhaps,"  said  Carnation  quietly,  "  my  George 
has  not  yet  spoken  !  " 

"  Well,  if  he  hasn't,  why  don't  you  make  him,"  said 
her  friend  with  vehemence,  "  or  else  why  have  eyes  like 
those  been  thrown  away  upon  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  worn  this  nearly  ten  years  !  "  said  Carnation, 
a  little  wistfully. 

"  Carnation   Maybold,"    said   her   friend   indignantly, 


CARNATION'S   MORNING   JOY  99 

"  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  !  And  so  it  was  for  the 
sake  of  that  school-girl's  split  sixpence  that  you  refused 
Harry  Foster,  whose  father  has  an  estate  of  his  own,  and 
Kenneth  Walker,  the  surveyor,  as  well  as  —  oh,  I  have 
no  patience  with  such  silly  sentiment !  " 

Carnation  smiled  even  more  quietly  than  usual. 

"  Gracie,"  she  said,  "  if  I  am  content,  I  don't  see  what 
difference  it  can  make  to  you." 

"  You  ought  to  be  married  —  you  oughtn't  to  live  alone 
with  only  an  old  woman  to  look  after  you.  You  are 
wasting  the  best  years  of  your  life " 

"  Gracie,  dear,"  said  Carnation,  "  you  mean  to  be  kind ; 
but  I  ask  you  not  to  say  any  more  about  this.  There  are 
worse  things  that  may  happen  to  a  woman,  than  that 
she  should  wait  and  wait  —  aye,  even  if  she  should  die 
waiting !  " 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  August  day  on  which  Mrs. 
Walter  had  spoken  thus  to  Carnation  that  John  Charles 
came  cottage-wards  slowly  and  gloomily.  He  had  been 
thinking  bitter  thoughts,  and  at  last  had  taken  a  resolve 
that  was  likely  to  cost  him  dear. 

In  the  warm  light  of  evening  the  girl,  who  stood  at  the 
farther  side  of  the  gap,  seemed  wondrously  beautiful. 
The  school-girl  look  had  long  siuce  passed  away.  Only 
the  fresh  rose  on  the  cheeks,  the  depths  in  the  eyes  (as 
if  a  cloud  shadowed  them),  the  lissom  bend  of  the  young 
body  towards  him,  were  the  same.  But  the  hair  was 
waved  and  plaited  about  the  head  in  a  larger  and  nobler 
fashion.  The  contours  were  a  little  fuller,  and  the  lips, 
perfect  as  ever  in  shape,  were  stiller,  and  the  smile  on 
them  at  once  more  assured  and  more  sedate. 


100  CARNATION'S   MORNING  JOY 

"Carnation,  I  cannot  hold  you  any  longer  to  your 
promise ! " 

"  And  why  not,  John ;  are  you  tired  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  grow  tired,  dear,"  the 
young  man's  voice  was  so  low  none  could  hear  it  but  the 
one  listener.  "  I  will  never  grow  tired  —  you  know  that. 
But  I  waste  the  best  years  of  your  life.  You  are  beauti- 
ful, and  the  time  is  passing.  You  might  marry  any 
one " 

"  Have  you  any  particular  one  in  your  mind  ?  " 

The  question  at  once  spurred  and  startled  him.  He 
moved  his  feet  on  the  soft  grass  of  the  meadow  with  a 
certain  embarrassment. 

"  Yes,  Carnation ;  my  mother  was  speaking  to  me  to- 
night of  Harry  Foster  of  Carnsalloch.  His  father  has 
told  her  of  his  love  for  you.  She  says  I  am  keeping  you 
from  accepting  him.  I  have  come  to  release  you  from 
any  promise,  Carnation,  spoken  or  implied." 

"  There  is  no  promise,  John  —  save  that  I  love  you, 
and  will  never  marry  any  one  else." 

"  But  if  I  went  away  you  might  —  you  might  change 
your  mind.  I  am  thinking  of  West  Australia.  I  am 
making  nothing  of  it  here.  All  is  as  much  my  mother's  as 
it  was  the  day  my  father  died !  I  can  get  her  a  good 
'grieve'  to  take  charge,  and  go  in  the  spring  !  " 

The  girl  winced  a  little,  but  did  not  speak  for  a  while. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  must  do  as  you  think 
best.  I  shall  wait  all  the  same.  Thank  God,  there  is 
no  law  against  a  woman  waiting." 

"  Carnation,  do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

The  gap  was  a  gap  still ;  but  both  the  lovers  were  on 
one  side  of  it,  and  the  night  was  dark  about  them.     In- 


CAUSATION'S    MOUSING    JOT  MM 

deed,  they  were  so  close  each  to  the  other  thai  was 

no  need  of  light. 

"  If  I  go,  I  shall  make  a  home  for  you !  " 

"  However  long  it  is,  I  shall  be  ready  when  you  want 
me!" 

"  Carnation  ! " 

"John!" 

And  so,  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  the  old,  old  tale  was 
retold  beneath  the  breathing  rustle  of  the  orchard  trees. 

Yet  their  hearts  were  sore  when  they  parted,  because 
the  springtime  was  so  near,  and  the  home  they  longed 
for  seemed  so  very  far. 

****** 

Carnation  slept  in  a  little  garret  room  with  a  gable 
window.  She  had  chosen  it,  because  she  liked  to  look 
down  on  John  Charles'  fields  and  on  the  low  place  in  the 
hedge  where  he  always  stood  waiting  for  her. 

The  waning  moon  had  risen  late,  and  Carnation  un- 
dressed without  a  candle.  Having  said  her  prayers,  she 
stole  into  bed.  But  sleep  would  not  come,  and,  her  heart 
being  right  sore  within  her,  the  tears  forced  up  her  eye- 
lids instead,  as  it  is  woman's  safety  that  they  should. 

She  lay  and  sobbed  her  heart  out  because  John  was 
going  away.  But  through  the  tears  that  wet  her  pillow 
certain  words  she  had  been  singing  in  the  choir  on  Sun- 
day forced  themselves : 

"  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night, 
But  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 

Nevertheless,  Carnation  must  have  sobbed  herself  to 
sleep,  for  it  was  nigh  the  dawn  when  she  was  awakened 
by  something  that  flicked  her  lattice  at  regular  intervals. 


102  C AERATION'S   MOKNING   JOY 

It  could  not  be  a  bird.  It  was  too  sharp  and  regular  for 
that. 

Could  it  be ? 

Impossible ! 

He  had  never  come  before  at  such  a  time  !  If  it  were 
indeed  he,  there  must  be  some  terrible  news  to  tell. 

Carnation  rose  hastily,  and  threw  a  loose  cloak  about 
her  shoulders.  Then  she  went  and  opened  the  little 
French  lattice  with  the  criss-cross  diamond  panes.  The 
dawn  was  coming  slowly  up  out  of  the  east,  and  the 
gray  fields  were  turning  rosy  beneath  her. 

A  dark  figure  filled  up  the  low  place  in  the  hedge. 

"  Carnation,  I  had  something  to  tell  you ! " 

"Is  it  bad  news  ?     I  cannot  bear  it,  if  it  is." 

"  No,  the  best  of  news  !  I  am  not  going  at  Whitsun- 
day to  Australia.  My  mother  told  me  last  night  that 
she  is  to  be  married  at  the  New  Year.  He  is  a  rich 
man  —  Harry  Foster's  father.  She  is  going  to  live  at 
Carnsalloch." 

"  Well  ? "  said  Carnation,  doubtfully,  not  seeing  all 
that  this  sudden  change  meant  to  them  both. 

"  Why,  then,  dearest,"  the  voice  of  John  Charles  Mor- 
rison shook  with  emotion,  "  we  can  be  married  as  soon  as 
we  like  after  that.  The  farm  and  everything  on  it  is 
ours  —  yours  and  mine !  " 

Carnation's  brain  reeled,  and  she  found  herself  with- 
out a  word  to  say.  Only  the  sound  of  the  happy  singing 
ran  in  her  head : 

"Joy  cometh  in  the  morning — joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing ! " 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  Carnation  ?  Are  you  not 
glad?" 


CARNATION'S   MORNING   JoV  L03 

.  The  voice  down  at  the  gap  was  anxious  now. 

"  I  am  too  far  away  from  you  to  say  anything,  but  I 
am  glad,  very  glad,  dear  John ! " 

"  You  will  be  ready  by  Whitsunday  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  ready  by  Whitsunday  !  " 

There  was  a  pause.  The  light  came  clearer  in  the 
east.  John  Charles  could  see  the  girl's  fresh  complexion 
thrown  up  by  the  dark  cloak,  an  edging  of  lace,  white 
and  dainty,  just  showing  beneath. 

"  Carnation,  I  wish  I  could  kiss  you !  "  he  said. 

"  Will  this  do  instead  ? "  she  answered  him,  smiling 
through  the  wetness  of  her  eyes. 

And  she  lifted  up  the  old  worn  class  medal  she  had 
carried  so  long  on  its  blue  ribbon,  and  kissed  it  openly. 

And  that  had  perforce  to  "do"  John  Charles  —  at 
least,  for  that  time  of  asking. 


JAIMSIE 

As  I  drove  home  the  other  day  I  saw  that  old  lazy- 
bones Jacob  Irving  seated  in  the  sun  with  a  whole  covey 
of  boys  round  him.  He  had  his  pocket-knife  in  his 
hand,  and  was  busy  mending  a  "  gird."  The  "  gird,"  or 
wooden  hoop,  belonged  to  Will  Bodden,  and  its  prece- 
dence in  medical  treatment  had  been  secured  by  Will's 
fists.  There  was  quite  a  little  hospital  ward  behind,  of 
toys  all  awaiting  diagnosis  in  strict  order  of  primacy. 

Here  was  Dick  Dobie  with  a  new  blade  to  put  into  his 
shilling  knife.  A  shilling  knife,  Jacob  assured  him,  is 
not  fitted  for  cutting  down  fishing-rods.  It  is,  however, 
excellent  as  a  saw  when  used  on  smaller  timber.  Next 
came  Peter  Cheesemonger,  who  was  in  waiting  with  a 
model  schooner,  the  rigging  of  which  had  met  with  an 
accident.  And  there,  hurrying  down  from  the  cottage 
on  the  Brae,  was  one  of  the  younger  Allan  lasses  with 
her  mother's  "  wag-at-the-wa' "  clock.  The  pendulum 
had  wagged  to  such  purpose  that  it  had  swung  itself  out 
of  its  right  mind. 

After  I  had  left  behind  me  this  vision  of  old  Jacob 
Irving  seated  on  the  wall  of  the  boys'  playground  at  the 
village  school,  I  fell  into  a  muse  upon  the  narrowness  of 
the  line  which,  in  our  Scottish  parishes,  divides  the 
"  Do-Everythings  "  from  the  "  Do-Nothings." 

I  could  give  myself  the  more  completely  to  this  train 
of  thought  that  I  had  finished  my  rounds  for  the  day, 

104 


JAIMSIE  105 

and  had  new  nothing  to  do  except  to  look  forward  to 
seeing  Nance,  and  to  the  excellent  dinner  for  which  the 
shrewd  airs  of  the  moorland  were  providing  internal 
accommodation  of  quite  a  superior  character. 

The  conditions  of  Scottish  life  are  generally  so  strenu- 
ous, and  the  compulsions  of  "  He  that  will  not  work, 
neither  shall  he  eat"  so  absolute,  that  wre  cannot  afford 
more  than  one  local  Do-Nothing  in  a  village  or  rural 
community.  Equally  certainly,  however,  one  is  neces- 
sary. The  hmsiness  of  the  commonwealth  could  not  be 
carried  on  without  him.  Besides,  he  is  needed  to  point 
the  indispensable  moral. 

"There's  that  guid-for-naething  Jacob  Irvin'  sittin'  wi' 
a'  the  misleared  boys  o'  the  neighbourhood  aboot  him  !" 
I  can  hear  a  douce  goodwrife  say  to  her  gossip.  "  Guid 
peety  his  puir  wife  and  bairns !  G  uidman,  lay  ye  doon 
that  paper  an'  awra'  to  your  wark,  or  ye'll  sune  be  nae 
better  —  wi'  your  Gledstane  and  your  speeches  and  your 
smokin' !     Think  shame  o'  yersel',  guidman." 

As  the  community  grows  larger,  however,  there  is  less 
and  less  room  for  the  amiable  Do-Nothing.  He  is, 
indeed,  only  seen  to  perfection  in  a  village  or  rural 
parish.  In  Cairn  Edward,  for  instance,  which  thinks 
itself  quite  a  town,  he  does  not  attain  the  general  es- 
teem and  almost  affectionate  reprobation  which,  in  my 
native  Whinny]  iggate,  follow  Jacob  Irving  about  like 
his  shadow. 

In  a  town  like  Cairn  Edward  a  local  Do-Nothing  is  apt 
to  attach  himself  to  a  livery  stable,  and  there  to  acquire 
a  fine  coppery  nose  and  a  permanent  "  dither  "  about  the 
knees.  He  is  spoken  of  curtly  and  even  disrespectfully 
as  "that  waister  Jock  Bell."      In  cities  he  becomes  a 


106  JAIMSIE 

mere  matter  for  the  police,  and  the  facetious  reporter 
chronicles  his  two-hundredth  appearance  before  the  mag- 
istrate. 

But  in  Whinnyliggate,  in  Dullarg,  in  Crosspa.trick,  and 
in  the  surrounding  parishes,  the  conditions  for  the  growth 
of  the  Do-Nothing  approach  as  near  perfection  as  any- 
thing merely  mundane  can  be  expected  to  do.  Jacob 
Irving  is  hardly  a  typical  specimen,  for  he  has  a  trade. 
The  genuine  Do-Nothing  should  have  none.  It  is  true 
that  Jacob's  children  might  reply,  like  the  boy  when 
asked  if  his  father  were  a  Christian,  "  Yes,  but  he  does 
not  work  at  it  much !  " 

Jacob  is  a  shoe-maker  —  or  rather  shoe-mender.  For 
I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  trace  an  entire  pair  of 
Jacob's  foot-gear  on  any  human  extremities.  It  does 
not  fit  his  humour  to  be  so  utilitarian.  He  has,  however, 
made  an  excellent  toy  pair  for  the  feet  of  little  Jessie 
Lockhart's  doll,  with  soles,  heels,  uppers,  tongues,  and 
lacing  gear  all  complete.  He  spent,  to  my  personal 
knowledge,  an  entire  morning  in  showing  her  (on  the 
front  step  of  her  father's  manse)  how  to  take  them  off 
and  put  them  on  again.  And  in  the  future  he  will  never 
meet  Jessie  on  the  King's  highway  without  stopping  and 
gravely  asking  her  if  any  repairs  are  yet  requisite. 
When  such  are  necessary  they  will,  without  doubt, 
receive  his  best  attention. 

I  had  not,  however,  made  a  study  of  Jacob  Irving  for 
any  considerable  period  without  exploding  the  vulgar 
opinion  that  the  parish  Do-Nothing  is  an  idle  or  a  lazy 
man.  Nay,  to  repeat  my  initial  paradox,  the  Do-Nothing 
is  the  only  genuine  Do-Everything. 

When  on  a  recent  occasion  I  gave  Jacob,  in  return  for 


JAIMSIK  107 

the  pleasure  of  his  conversation,  a  "lift"  in  my  doct 
gig,  he  talked  to  me  very  confidentially  of  his  "  rouni 
At  first  I  imagined  in  my  ignorance  that,  like  the  tail 
of  the  parishes  round  about,  he  went  from  farm  to  farm 
prosecuting  his  calling  and  cobbling  the  shoes  of  half 
the  country-side.      1   was  I  ml  tressed  in  this  opinion   bj 
his  expressed  pity  or  contempl  Cor  wearers  of  "clogs." 

••  Sere's  anither  puir  body  wi'  a  pair  o'  clogs  on   his 

feet,"  Jacob  would  say;  "and  to  think  that  for  verra 

little  mair  than  the  craitur  paid  for  them,  I  wad  fit  him 

wi'  as  soond  a  pair  o'  leather-soled  shoon  as  were  ever 

a  frae  amang  tanners'  bark  !" 

I  had  also  seen  him  start  out  with  a  thin-bladed  cob- 
bler's knife  and  the  statutory  piece  of  "roset"  or  resin 
wrapped  in  a  palm's-breadth  of  soft  leather.  But,  alas, 
all  was  a  vain  show.  The  knife  was  to  be  used  in  deli- 
cate surgical  work  upon  the  deceased  at  a  pig-killing, 
and  the  resin  was  for  splicing  fishing-rods. 

After  a  while  I  began  b}7  severe  study  to  get  at  the 
bottom  of  a  Do-Nothing's  philosophy.  To  do  the  appoint.  1 
task  for  the  performance  of  which  duty  calls,  man  waits, 
and  money  will  be  paid,  that  is  work  to  be  avoided  by 
every  moans  —  by  procrastination,  by  fallacious  promise, 
by  prevarication,  and  (sad  to  have  to  say  it)  by  the 
plainest  of  plain  1\  ing. 

Whatever  brings  in  money  in  the  exercise  of  a  trade, 
whatever  must  be  finished  within  a  given  time,  that 
needs  the  co-operation  of  others  or  prolonged  and  consec- 
utive effort  on  his  own  part,  is  merely  anathema  to  the 
Do-Nothing. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  house  in  the  parish  is  too  dis- 
tant  for  him  to  attend  at  the  "  settin'  o'  the  yaird  "  (the 


108  JAIMSIE 

delving  must,  however,  be  done  previously).  On  such 
occasions  the  Do-Nothing  revels  in  long  wooden  pins 
with  string  wrapped  mysteriously  about  them.  He  can 
turn  you  out  the  neatest-shaped  bed  of  "  onions "  and 
"  syboes,"  the  straightest  rows  of  cabbages,  and  potato 
drills  so  level  that  the  whole  household  feels  that  it 
must  walk  the  straight  path  in  order  not  to  shame  them. 
The  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  looks  over  the  dyke 
and  says:  "Thae  dreels  are  Jacob's  — there's  nane  like 
them  in  the  country-side !  " 

This  at  least  is  Jacob's  way  of  it. 

But  though  all  this  is  by  the  way  of  introduction  to 
the  particular  Do-Nothing  I  have  in  my  eye,  it  is  not  of 
Jacob  that  I  am  going  to  write.  Jacob  is  indeed  an 
enticing  subject,  and  from  the  point  of  view  of  his  wife, 
might  be  treated  very  racily.  But,  though  I  afterwards 
made  Margate  living's  acquaintance  (and  may  one  day 
put  her  opinions  on  record),  I  have  other  and  higher 
game  in  my  mind. 

This  is  none  other  than  the  Reverend  James  Tacks- 
man, B.A.,  licentiate  of  the  Original  Marrow  Kirk  of 
Scotland.  In  fact,  a  clerical  Do-Nothing  of  the  highest 
class. 

Now,  to  begin  with,  I  will  aver  that  there  is  no  scorn 
in  all  this.  "  Jaimsie  "  is  more  to  me  than  many  worthy 
religious  publicists,  beneficed,  parished,  churched,  sti- 
pended,  and  sustentationed  to  the  eyes.  He  was  not  a 
very  great  man.  He  was  in  no  sense  a  successful  man, 
but  —  he  was  "  Jaimsie." 

I  admit  that  my  zeal  is  that  of  the  pervert.  It  was  not 
always  thus  with  me  when  "  Jaimsie"  was  alive,  and 
perhaps  my  enthusiasm  is  so  full-bodied  from  a  sense 


JAIMSIB  109 

that  it  is  impossible  for  the  gentle  probationer  to  come 
and  quarter  himself  upon  Nance  and  myself  for  (say) 
a  period  of  three  months  in  the  winter  season,  a  thing  he 
was  quite  capable  of  doing  when  in  the  flesh. 

In  the  days  before  I  was  converted  to  higher  views  of 
human  nature  as  represented  in  the  person  of  "  Jaimsie," 
1  was  even  as  the  vulgar  with  regard  to  him.  I  admit 
it.  I  even  openly  scoffed,  and  retailed  to  many  the 
story  of  Jamie  and  my  father,  Saunders  McQuhirr  of 
Drumquhat,  with  which  I  shall  conclude.  I  used  to  tell 
it  rather  well  at  college,  the  men  said.  At  least  they 
laughed  sufficiently.  But  now  I  shall  not  try  to  add, 
alter,  amend,  or  extenuate,  as  is  the  story-teller's  wont 
with  his  favourites.  For  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  I  have 
repented  me,  and  am  at  present  engaged  in  making  my 
honourable  amend  to  "  Jaimsie." 

For  almost  as  long  as  I  can  remember  the  Reverend 
James  Tacksman,  B.A.,  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  my 
father's  house,  and  the  news  that  he  was  in  view  on  the 
"far  brae-face"  used  to  put  my  mother  into  such  a  tem- 
per that  "  dauded"  heads  and  cuffed  ears  were  the  order 
of  the  day.  The  larger  fry  of  us  cleared  out  promptly 
to  the  barn  and  stackyard  till  the  first  burst  of  the 
storm  was  over.  Even  my  father,  accustomed  as  he  was 
to  carry  all  matters  ecclesiastical  with  a  high  hand, 
found  it  convenient  to  have  some  harness  to  clean  in  the 
stable,  or  the  lynch-pin  of  a  cart  to  replace  in  the  little 
joiner's  shop  where  he  passed  so  much  of  his  time. 

"  I'll  no  hae  the  craitur  aboot  the  hoose,"  my  mother 
would  cry ;  "  I  telled  ye  sae  the  last  time  he  was  here  — 
sax  weeks  in  harvest  it  was  —  and  then  had  maist  to  be 
shown  the  door.     (Haud  oot  o'  my  road,  weans  !     Can  ye 


110  JAIMSIE 

no  keep  frae  rinnin'  amang  my  feet  like  sae  mony  collie 
whaulps?  Tak'  ye  that!)  Hear  ye  this,  guidman,  if 
ye  willna  speak  to  the  man,  by  my  faith  I  wull.  Mary 
McQuhirr  is  no  gann  to  hae  the  bread  ta'en  oot  o'  the 

mooths  o'  her  innocent  bairns (Where  in  the  name 

o'  fortune,  Alec,  are  ye  gaun  wi'  that  soda  bannock  ?  Pit 
it  doon  this  meenit,  or  I'll  tak'  the  tings  to  ye !)  Na,  nor 
I  will  be  run  aff  my  feet  to  pleesure  ony  sic  useless,  guid- 
f or-naething  seefer  as  Jaimsie  Tacksman ! " 

At  this  moment  a  faint  rapping  made  itself  audible  at 
the  front  door,  never  opened  except  on  the  highest  state 
occasions,  as  when  the  minister  called,  and  at  funerals. 

My  mother  (I  can  see  her  now)  gave  a  hasty  "tidy" 
to  her  gray  hair  and  adjusted  her  white-frilled  "mutch" 
about  her  still  winsome  brow. 

"  And  hoo  are  ye  the  day,  Maister  Tacksman,  an'  it's  a 
lang,  lang  season  since  we've  had  the  pleasure  o'  a  veesit 
frae  you  I " 

Could  that  indeed  be  my  mother's  voice,  so  lately 
upraised  in  denunciation  over  a  stricken  and  cowering 
world  ?  I  could  not  understand  it  then,  and  to  tell  the 
truth  I  don't  quite  yet.  I  have,  however,  asked  her  to 
explain,  and  this  is  what  she  says  : 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  Alec,  it  was  this  way  "  (she  is  pleased 
when  I  require  any  points  for  my  "scribin',"  though 
publicly  she  scoffs  at  them  and  declares  it  will  ruin  my 
practice  if  the  thing  becomes  known),  "  ye  see  I  had  it 
in  my  mind  to  the  last  minute  to  deny  the  craitur.  But 
when  I  gaed  to  open  the  door,  there  stood  Jaimsie  wi' 
his  wee  bit  shakin'  hand  oot  an'  his  threadbare  coatie 
hingin'  laich  aboot  his  peetifu'  spindle  shanks,  and  his 
weel-brushit  hat,  an'  the  white  neck-claith  that  wanted 


JAIMSIE  111 

doin'  up.  And  I  kenned  that  naebody  could  laundry  it 
as  weel  as  me.     My  fingers  joist  fair  yeukit  (itched)  to 

be  at  the  starchin'  o't.  And  faith,  maybes  there  was 
something  aboot  the  craitur  too  —  he  was  sae  cruppen  in 
upon  himsel',  sae  weebookit,  sae  waesome  and  yet  kindly 
aboot  the  e'en,  that  I  jnist  couldna  say  him  nay." 

That  is  my  mother's  report  of  her  feelings  in  the  mat- 
ter. She  dies  not  add  that  the  ten  minutes  or  quarter 
of  an  hour  in  which  she  had  been  able  to  give  the  fullesl 
and  most  public  expression  to  her  feelings  had  allowed 
most  of  the  steam  of  indignation  to  blow  itself  off.  31  y 
father,  who  was  a  good  judge,  gave  me,  early  in  my  mar- 
ried life,  some  excellent  advice  on  this  very  point,  which 
I  subjoin  for  the  edification  of  the  general  public. 

"Never  bottle  a  woman  up,  Alec,"  he  said  medita- 
tively. "What  Vesuvius  and  Etna  and  tha  either  vol- 
canoes are  to  this  worl',  the  legeetimate  exercise  o'  her 
tongue  is  to  a  woman.  It's  a  naitural  function,  Alec. 
Ye  may  bridle  the  ass  or  the  mule,  but  —  gie  the  tongue 
o'  a  woman  (as  it  were)  plenty  o'  elbow-room  !  Gang 
oot  o'  the  hoose  —  like  Moses  to  the  backside  o'  the 
wilderness  gin  ye  like,  and  when  ye  come  in  she  will  be 
as  quaite  as  pussy;  and  if  ever  ye  hae  to  contradick 
your  mairried  wife,  Alec,  let  it  be  in  deeds,  no  in  words. 
Gang  your  road  gin  ye  hae  made  up  your  mind,  im- 
movable like  the  sun,  the  mime,  and  the  stars  o'  heeven 
in  their  courses  —  but,  as  ye  value  peace  dinna  be  aye 
cryin'  '  Aye,'  when  your  wife  cries  '  No ' !  " 

Which  things  may  be  wisdom.  But  to  the  tale  of  our 
Jaimsie. 

Sometimes,  moreover,  even  the  natural  man  in  my 
kindly   and   long-suffering    father    uprose    against    the 


112  JATMSIE 

preacher.  Jaimsie  knew  when  he  was  comfortable,  and 
no  mere  hint  of  any  delicate  sort  would  make  him  cur- 
tail his  visit  by  one  day.  I  can  remember  him  creeping 
about  the  farm  of  Drumquhat  all  that  summer,  a  book 
in  his  hand,  contemplating  the  works  of  God  as  wit- 
nessed chiefly  in  the  growth  of  the  "  grosarts."  (We 
always  blamed  him  —  quite  unjustly,  I  believe  —  for 
eating  the  "  silver-gray  "  gooseberries  on  the  sly.)  Now 
he  would  stand  half  au  hour  and  gaze  up  among  the 
branches  of  an  elm,  where  a  cushat  was  tirelessly  coo- 
rooing  to  his  mate.  Anon  you  would  see  him  appar- 
ently deeply  engaged  in  counting  the  sugar-plums  in 
the  orchard.  After  a  little  he  would  be  found  seated  on 
the  red  shaft  of  a  cart  in  the  stackyard,  jotting  down  in 
a  shabby  note-book  ideas  for  the  illustrations  of  sermons 
never  to  be 'written;  or  if  written,  doomed  never  to  be 
preached.  His  hat  was  always  curled  up  at  the  back 
and  pulled  down  at  the  front,  and  till  my  mother  made 
down  an  old  pair  of  ,  my  father's  Sunday  trousers  for 
him  (and  put  them  beside  his  bed  while  he  slept),  you 
could  see  in  a  good  light  the  reflection  of  your  hand  on 
the  knees  of  his  "  blacks."  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
say  that  .Jaimsie  never  referred  to  the  transposition, 
nor,  indeed,  in  all  probability,  so  much  as  discovered  it. 

Jaimsie  was  used  to  conduct  family  worship  morning 
and  evening  in  the  house  of  his  sojourn,  as  a  kind  of 
quit-rent  for  his  meal  of  meat  and  his  prophet's  chamber. 
To  the  ordinary  reading  of  the  Word  he  was  wont  to  sub- 
join an  "  exposeetion  "  of  some  disputed  or  prophetical 
passage.  The  whole  exercises  never  took  less  than  an 
hour,  if  Jaimsie  were  left  to  the  freedom  of  his  own 
will  —  which,  as  may  be  inferred,  was  extremely  awk- 


JAIMSIB  113 

ward  in  a  bus\  season  when  the  corn  w:ts  dry  in  the 
stook  or  when  the  scythes  flashed  rhythmically  like  level 
silver  flames  among  the  lush  meadow  grass. 

Finally,  therefore,  a  compromise  had   to  be  effed 

M  it  her  took  the  morning  dice  of  worship, bnt  Jaim 
had  his  will  of  us  in  the  evening.  1  can  see  them  yet  — 
those  weariful  sederunts,  when  even  my  father  wrestled 
with  sleep  like  Samson  with  the  Philistines,  while  my 
mother  periodically  nodded  forward  with  a  lurch,  and. 
recovering  herself  with  a  start,  the  next  moment  looked 
round  haughtily  to  see  which  of  us  was  misbehaving. 
Meanwhile  the  kitchen  was  all  dark,  save  where  before 
Jaimsie  the  great  Bible  lay  open  between  two  candles, 
and  on  the  hearth  the  last  peat  of  the  evening  glowed 
red. 

Many  is  the  fine  game  of  draughts  I  have  had  with 
my  brother  Rob  and  Christie  Wilson,  our  herd  lad,  by 
putting  the  "  dam-brod  "  behind  the  chimney  jamb  where 
my  father  and  mother  could  not  see  it,  and  moving  the 
pieces  by  the  light  of  the  red  peat  ash.  I  am  ashamed 
to  think  on  it  now,  but  then  it  seemed  the  only  thing  to 
do  which  would  keep  us  from  sleep. 

And  meantime  Jaimsie  prosed  on,  his  gentle  sing-song 
working  its  wicked  work  on  my  mother  like  a  lullaby, 
and  my  father  sending  his  nails  into  the  palms  of  his 
hands  that  he  might  not  be  shamed  before  us  all. 

I  remember  particularly  how  Jaimsie  addressed  us  for 
a  whole  week  on  his  favourite  text  in  the  Psalms,  "  The 
hill  of  God  is  as  the  hill  of  Bashan  —  an  high  hill,  as 
the  hill  Bashan." 

And  in  the  pauses  of  crowning  our  men  and  scuffling 
for  the  next  place  at  the  draught-board,  we  could  catch 


114  JAIMSIE 

strange  words  and  phrases  which  come  to  me  yet  with  a 
curious  wistful  thrilling  of  the  heart.  Such  are  "  White 
as  snow  on  Salmon"  —  "That  mount  Sinai  in  Arabia" 
—  "  Ye  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let  there  be  no  dew,  neither 
let  there  be  rain  upon  you,  nor  fields  of  offering." 

And  as  a  concluding  of  the  whole  matter  we  sang  this 
verse  out  of  Francis  Eoos's  psalter : 

' '  Ye  mountains  great,  wherefore  was  it 
That  ye  did  skip  like  rams  ? 
And  wherefore  was  it,  little  hills, 
That  ye  did  leap  like  lambs  ?  " 

It  was  all  double-Dutch  to  me  then,  but  now  I  can  see 
that  Jaimsie  must  have  been  marshalling  the  mountains 
of  Scripture  to  bear  solemn  witness  against  an  evil  and 
exceedingly  somnolent  generation. 

Once  when  my  mother  snored  audibly  Jaimsie  looked 
up,  but  at  that  very  moment  she  awoke,  and  with  great 
and  remarkable  presence  of  mind  promptly  cuffed  Rob, 
who  in  his  turn  knocked  the  draught-board  endways, 
just  as  I  had  his  last  man  cornered,  to  our  everlasting 
disgrace. 

My  mother  asked  us  next  day  pointedly  where  we 
thought  we  were  going  to,  and  if  we  were  of  opinion  that 
there  would  be  any  dam-brods  in  hell.  I  offered  no 
remarks,  but  Rob — who  was  always  an  impudent  boy  — 
gob  on  the  other  side  of  the  dyke  from  my  mother  and 
answered  that  there  would  be  no  snorers  there  either. 

From  an  early  age  he  was  a  lad  of  singularly  sound 
judgments,  my  brother  Rob.  He  stayed  out  in  the  barn 
till  after  my  mother  was  asleep  that  night. 

At  last,  however,  even  my  father  grew  tired  of  Jaimsie. 
He  stayed  full  three  months  on  this  occasion.     Autum- 


JAIMSIE  115 

nal  harvest  fields  were  bared  of  stooks,  the  frost  began  to 
glisten  on  the  stiff  turnip  shaws,  the  wreathed  nets  were 
put  up  for  the  wintering  sheep,  and  still  the  indefatigable 
Jaimsie  stayed  on. 

I  remember  ye.  the  particular  morning  when,  at  long 
and  last,  Jaimsie  left  us.  All  night  almost  there  had 
been  in  the  house  the  noise  as  of  a  burn  running  over  hol- 
low stones,  with  short  solid  interruptions  like  the  sound 
of  a  distant  mallet  stricken  on  wood.  It  came  from  my 
father's  and  mother's  room.  I  knew  well  what  it  meant. 
The  sound  like  running  water  was  my  mother  trying 
to  persuade  my  father  to  something  against  his  will, 
and  the  far-away  mallet  thuds  were  his  monosyllabic 
replies. 

This  time  it  was  my  mother  who  won. 

After  the  harvest  bustle  was  over,  Jaimsie  had 
resumed  his  practice  of  taking  worship  in  the  mornings, 
but  any  of  us  who  had  urgent  work  on  hand  could 
obtain,  by  proper  representation,  a  dispensing  ordinance. 
These  were  much  sought  after,  especially  when  Jaimsie 
started  to  tackle  the  Book  of  Daniel  "  in  his  ordinary," 
as  he  phrased  it. 

But  this  Monday  morning,  to  the  general  surprise,  my 
father  sat  down  in  the  chair  of  state  himself  and  reached 
the  Bible  from  the  shelf. 

"  I  will  take  family  worship  this  morning,  Mr.  Tacks- 
man," he  said,  with  great  sobriety. 

Then  we  knew  that  something  extraordinary  was  com- 
ing, and  I  was  glad  I  had  not  "  threeped  "  to  my  mother 
that  I  had  seen  some  of  the  Nether  Xeuk  sheep  in  our 
High  Park  —  which  would  have  been  quite  true,  for  I 
had  put  them  there  myself  on  purpose  the  night  before. 


116  JAIMSIE 

It  was  during  the  prayer  that  the  blow  fell.  My 
father  had  a  peculiarly  distinct  and  solemn  way  with 
him  in  supplication ;  and  now  the  words  fell  distinct  as 
hammer  strokes  on  our  ear. 

He  prayed  for  the  Church  of  God  in  all  covenanted 
lands;  for  all  Christian  peoples  of  every  creed  (here 
Jaimsie,  faithful  Abdiel,  always  said  "  Humph  ") ;  for 
the  heathen  without  God  and  without  hope  ;  for  the  fam- 
ily now  present  and  for  those  of  the  family  afar  off. 
Then,  as  was  his  custom,  he  approached  the  stranger 
(who  was  no  stranger)  within  our  gates. 

"  And  do  Thou,  Lord,  this  day  vouchsafe  journeying 
mercies  to  Thy  servant  who  is  about  to  leave  us.  Grant 
him  favourable  weather  for  his  departure,  good  speed  on 
his  way,  and  a  safe  return  to  his  own  country ! " 

A  kind  of  gasping  sigh  went  all  about  the  kitchen.  I 
knew  that  my  mother  had  her  eye  on  my  father  to  keep 
him  to  his  pledged  word  of  the  night  season.  So  I 
dared  not  look  round. 

But  we  all  ached  to  know  how  Jaimsie  would  take  it, 
and  we  all  joined  fervently  in  the  supplication  which 
promised  us  a  couple  of  hours  more  added  to  our 
day. 

Then  came  the  Amen,  and  all  rose  to  their  feet. 
Jaimsie  seemed  a  little  dazed,  but  took  the  matter  like 
a  scholar  and  a  gentleman. 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  my  father  with  his  usual 
benevolent  smile. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  mentioned  it,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  was   thinking  of  leaving  you  to-day." 

And  that  was  all  he  said,  but  forthwith  went  upstairs 
to  pack  his  shabby  little  black  bag. 


JAIMSIE  117 

My  father  Btood  a  while  as  if  shamed;  then,  when  we 
heard  Jaimsie's  feet  trotting  overhead,  he  turned  some- 
what grimly  to  my  mother.     On  his  face  was  an  • 
sion  as  if  he  had  just  taken  ph\  sic. 

"  Well,"  he  said,   "you  will  be  easier  in  your  mind 
now,  Mary."     This   he  said,  well  knowing  that  the 
of  remorse  was  already  getting  his  incisors  to  work  upon 
his  wife's  conscience.     She  stamped  lmr  I'm  it. 

"  Saunders  McQuhirr,"  she  said  in  suppressed  tones, 
"to  be  a  Christian  man,  ye  are  the  maist  aggrevat- 
in' » 


But  at  that  moment  my  father  went  out  through  the 
door,  saying  no  further  word. 

My  mother  shooed  us  all  out  of  the  house  like  intru- 
sive chickens,  and  L  do  not  know  for  certain  what  she 
did  next.  But  Bob,  looking  through  the  blind  of  the 
little  room  where  she  kept  her  house-money,  saw  her 
fumbling  with  her  purse.  And  when  at  last  Jaimsie, 
having  addressed  his  bag  to  be  sent  with  the  Carsphaim 
carrier  into  Ayrshire  (where  dwelt  the  friends  next  on 
his  visiting  list),  came  out  with  his  staff  in  one  hand,  he 
was  dabbing  his  eyes  with  a  clean  handkerchief. 

Then,  after  that,  all  that  I  remember  is  the  pathetic 
figure  of  the  little  probationer  lifting  up  a  hand  in  silent 
blessing  upon  the  house  which  had  sheltered  him  so 
long;  and  so  taking  his  lonely  way  over  the  hillside 
towards  the  northern  coach  road. 

When  my  father  came  in  from  the  sheep  at  mid-day, 
he  waited  till  grace  was  over,  and  then,  looking  directly 
at  my  mother,  he  said  :  ,l  Wed,  Mary,  how  mony  o'  your 
pound  notes  did  he  carry  away  in  his  briest-pocket  this 
time  ?  " 


118  JAIMSIE 

I  shall  never  forget  the  return  and  counter  retort 
which  followed.  My  mother  was  vexed  —  one  of  the  few 
times  that  I  can  remember  seeing  her  truly  angered  with 
her  husband. 

"  I  would  give  you  one  advice,  Saunders  McQuhirr," 
she  said,  "  and  that  is,  from  this  forth,  to  be  mindful  of 
your  own  business." 

"  I  will  tak'  that  advice,  Mary,"  he  answered  slowly  ; 
"  but  my  heart  is  still  sore  within  me  this  day  because  I 
took  the  last  advice  you  gied  me  !  " 

Tf  "if  "TC  rnF  "TT  * 

And  it  was  destined  to  be  yet  sorer  for  that  same 
cause.  Jaimsie  never  was  within  our  doors  again.  He 
abode  in  Ayrshire  and  the  Upper  Ward  all  that  winter 
and  spring,  and  it  was  not  till  the  following  back-end, 
and  in  reply  to  a  letter  and  direct  invitation  from  my 
conscience-stricken  father,  that  he  announced  that,  all 
being  well  and  the  Lord  gracious,  he  would  be  with  us 
the  following  Friday. 

But  on  the  Thursday  night  a  great  snow  storm  came 
on,  and  the  drift  continued  long  unabated.  We  all  said 
that  Jaimsie  would  doubtless  be  safely  housed,  and  we 
did  not  look  for  him  to  arrive  upon  the  day  of  his  prom- 
ise. However,  by  Monday,  when  the  coach  was  again 
running,  my  mother  began  to  be  anxious,  and  all  the 
younger  of  us  went  forth  to  try  and  get  news  of  him. 
We  heard  that  he  had  left  Carsphairn  late  on  the  Thurs- 
day forenoon,  meaning  to  stop  overnight  at  the  shep- 
herd's shieling  at  the  southern  end  of  Loch  Dee.  But 
equally  certainly  he  had  never  reached  it. 

It  was  not  till  Tuesday  morning  early  that  Jaimsie 
was   found  under  a  rock  near  the  very  summit  of   the 


J  A  I.MS  IK  119 

Dungeon  hill,  his  plaid  about  him  and  his  frozen  band 
clasping  his  pocket  Bible.  It  was  open,  and  his  favour- 
ite text  was  thrift'  underscored. 

"  The  hill  of  God  is  as  tfo  hill  of  Bashan  — <in  high  hill, 
as  the  hill  nf  Bashaw," 

Well,  there  is  no  doubl  that  the  little  forlorn  "servant 
of  God"  has  indeed  gotten  some  new  light  shed  upon 
tin',  text,  since  the  dark  hour  when  he  sat  down  to  rest 
his  weary  limbs  upon  the  snow-clad  summit  of  the  Dun- 
geon of  Buchan. 


BEADLE   AND  MARTYR 

I  sometimes  give  it  as  a  reason  for  a  certain  lack  of 
uniformity  in  church  attendance,  that  I  cannot  away 
with  the  new-fangled  organs,  hymns,  and  chaunts  one 
meets  with  there.  I  love  them  not,  in  comparison,  that 
is,  with  the  old  psalm  tunes.  They  do  not  make  the 
heart  beat  quicker  and  more  proudly,  like  Kilmarnock 
and  Coleshill,  Duke  Street  and  Old  124th. 

Nance,  however,  is  so  far  left  to  herself  as  to  say  that 
this  is  only  an  excuse,  and  that  my  real  reason  is  the 
pleasure  I  have  in  thinking  that  all  the  people  must 
perforce  listen  to  a  sermon,  while  I  can  put  my  feet  upon 
another  chair  and  read  anything  I  like.  This,  however, 
is  rank  insult,  such  as  only  wives  long  wedded  dare  to 
indulge  in.  Besides,  it  shows,  by  its  imputation  of 
motives,  to  what  lengths  a  sordid  and  ill-regulated  imagi- 
nation will  go. 

Moreover,  I  have  never  grown  accustomed  to  the 
hours  of  town  churches,  and  I  consider,  both  from  a 
medical  and  from  a  spiritual  point  of  view,  that  after- 
noon services  in  town  churches  are  directly  responsible 
for  the  spread  of  indigestion,  as  well  as  of  a  spirit  of 
religious  infidelity  throughout  our  beloved  land. 

(Nance  is  properly  scandalised  at  this  last  remark, 
and  says  that  she  hopes  people  will  understand  that  I 
only  believe  about  half  of  what  I  put  down  on  paper 
when  I  get  a  pen  in  my  hand.     She  complains  that  she 

120 


BEADLE    AM)    MAK1  YK  121 

is  often  asked  to  explain  some  of  my  positions  ;it  after- 
noon teas.     I  say  it  serve:;  her  right  for  attending  Buch 

gatherings  of  irresponsible  gossip,  tempered  with  boiled 
tannin.  It  is  easy  to  have  the  last  word  with  Nance  — 
here.) 

But  after  all  the  chief  thing  that  I  miss  when  I  go  to 
church  is  just  Willie  McNair. 

The  sermon  is  nowadays  both  shorter  and  better. 
The  singing  is  good  of  its  kind,  and  I  can  always  read  a 
psalm  or  a  paraphrase  if  the  hymn  prove  too  long,  or,  as 
is  often  the  case,  rather  washy  in  sentiment.  The  chil- 
dren's address  is  really  designed  for  children,  and  the 
prayers  do  not  exceed  five  minutes  in  length.  But  — 
I  look  in  vain  for  Willie  McNair. 

Alas !  Willie  lies  out  yonder  on  the  green  knowe, 
his  wife  Betty  by  his  side,  and  four  feet  of  good  black 
mould  over  his  cofhn-lid. 

Willie  was  just  our  beadle,  and  he  had  a  story.  When 
I  am  setting  down  so  many  old  things,  if  I  forget  thee, 
Willie  McNair,  may  my  right  hand  forget  his  cunning. 

Ah,  Willie,  though  you  never  were  a  "church-officer," 
though  you  never  heard  the  Word,  it  is  you,  you  alone, 
that  I  miss.  I  just  cannot  think  of  the  kirk  without  you. 
Grizzled,  gnarled,  bow-shouldered  of  week-days,  what  a 
dignity  of  port,  what  a  solemnising  awe,  what  a  proces- 
sional tread  was  thine  on  Sabbaths  !  We  had  only  one 
service  in  the  Kirk  on  the  Hill  in  my  youth.  But, 
speaking  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  that  one  was  a  "starcher." 

It  included  the  "prefacing  "  of  a  psalm,  often  extend- 
ing over  quite  as  long  a  period  of  time  as  an  ordinary 
modern  sermon,  a  "  lecture,"  which  as  a  rule  (if  "  him- 
sel'  "  was  in  fettle;  lasted  about   three   quarters  of  an 


122  BEADLE   AND  MARTYR 

hour.      Then   after  that  the  sermon  proper  was  begun 
without  loss  of  time. 

Now  I  cannot  say,  speaking  "from  the  heart  to  the 
heart  "  (a  favourite  expression  of  Willie's),  that  I  regret 
the  loss  of  all  this.  I  was  but  a  boy,  and  the  torment 
of  having  to  sit  still  for  from  two  hours  and  a  half  to 
three  hours  on  a  hard  seat,  close-packed  and  well-watched 
to  keep  me  out  of  mischief,  has  made  even  matrimony 
seem  light  and  easy.  How  mere  Episcopalians  and  other 
untrained  persons  get  through  the  sorrows  and  disap- 
pointments incident  to  human  life  I  do  not  know. 

It  was  not  till  the  opening  of  the  Sabbath-school  by 
Mr.  Osbourne,  however,  that  I  came  to  know  Willie 
well.  Hitherto  be  had  been  as  inaccessible  and  awe- 
striking  as  the  minister's  neckcloth.  And  of  that  I 
have  a  story  to  tell.  I  think  what  made  me  a  sort  of 
advanced  thinker  in  these  early  days,  was  once  being 
sent  by  my  father  to  the  lodgings  of  the  minister  who 
was  to  "  supply  "  on  a  certain  Sabbath  morning.  The 
manse  must  have  been  shut  for  repairs  and  "  himsel'  " 
on  his  holidays.  At  any  rate,  the  minister  was  stopping 
with  Miss  Bella  McBriar  in  the  little  white  house  below 
the  Calmstone  Brig.  Miss  Bella  showed  me  in  with 
my  missive,  and  there,  on  the  morning  of  the  Holy  Day, 
before  a  common  unsanctified  glass  tacked  to  a  wall, 
with  a  lathery  razor  in  his  hand,  in  profane  shirt- 
sleeves, stood  the  minister,  shaving  himself !  His  neck- 
cloth, that  was  to  appear  and  shine  so  glorious  above 
the  cushions  of  the  pulpit,  hung  limp  and  ignominious 
over  the  back  of  a  chair.  A  clay  pipe  lay  across  the 
ends  of  it. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  mischief,  and  if  I  ever 


BEADLE  AND   MARTYR  123 

take  to  a  criminal  career,  here  was  the  first  and  primal 
cause. 

Shortly  alter  I  went  to  Sabbath-school,  and  having 
been  well  trained  by  my  father  in  controversial  divinit 
and  drilled  by  my  mother  in  the  Catechism,  I  found  my- 
self in  a  fair  way  of  distinguishing  myself;  but  for  all 
that,  I  cannot  truly  say  that  1  ever  got  over  the  neck- 
cloth on  the  back  of  .Miss  McBriar's  chair.  When  1 
aired  my  free-thinking  opinions  before  my  father,  and  he 
shut  me  off  by  an  appeal  to  authority,  I  kept  silence  and 
hugged  myself. 

"  That  may  be  a  good  enough  argument,"  I  said  to  my- 
self, "but  — 1  have  seen  a  minister's  neckcloth  hung 
over  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  shaving-soap  on  his  chaf  ts 
on  Sabbath  morning.  How  can  you  believe  in  revealed 
religion  after  that  ?  " 

Rut  I  had  so  much  of  solid  common-sense,  even  in 
these  my  salad  days,  that  I  refrained  from  saying  these 
things  to  my  father.  Indeed,  I  would  not  dare  to  say 
them  now,  even  if  I  believed  them. 

Willie  McXair  regarded  the  Sabbath-school  much  as  I 
did.     To  both  of  us  it  was  simply  an  imposition. 

Willie  thought  so  for  two  reasons  —  first  and  generally, 
because  it  was  an  innovation;  and  secondly,  because  he 
had  to  clean  up  the  kirk  after  it.  I  agreed  with  him, 
because  I  was  compelled  to  attend  —  the  farm  cart  being 
delayed  a  whole  hour  in  order  that  I  might  have  the 
privilege  of  religious  instruction  by  the  senior  licensed 
grocer  of  the  little  town.  This  gentleman  had  only  one 
way  of  imparting  knowledge.  That  was  with  the  brass- 
edged  binding  of  his  pocket  Bible.  Even  at  that  time  I 
preferred  the  limp  Oxford  morocco.     And  so  would  you. 


124  BEADLE   AND   MARTYR 

if  something  so  unsympathetic  as  brass  corners  were 
applied  to  the  sides  of  your  head  two  or  three  times 
every  Sunday  afternoon. 

After  several  years  of  this  experience,  I  passed  into 
Henry  Marchbank's  class  and  was  happy.  But  that  is 
quite  another  chapter,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  Willie 
McNair. 

Now,  Sabbath-school  was  over  about  three  o'clock,  and 
our  conveyance  did  not  start  till  four.  That  is  the  way 
I  became  attached  to  Willie.  I  used  to  stay  and  help 
him  to  clean  the  kirk.     This  is  the  way  he  did  it. 

First,  he  unfrocked  himself  of  his  broadcloth  dignity 
by  hanging  his  coat  upon  a  nail  in  the  vestry.  Then  he 
put  on  an  apron  which  covered  him  from  gray  chin-beard 
to  the  cracks  in  the  uppers  of  his  shining  shoes.  Into 
the  breast  of  this  envelope  he  thrust  a  duster  large 
enough  for  a  sheet.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  section  of  a  de- 
parted pulpit  swathing. 

Then,  muttering  quite  scriptural  maledictions,  and 
couching  them  in  language  entirely  Biblical,  Willie  pro- 
ceeded to  visit  the  pews  occupied  by  each  class,  restoring 
the  "  buiks  "  he  had  previously  piled  at  the  head  of  each 
seat  to  their  proper  places  on  the  book-board  in  front, 
and  scrutinising  the  woodwork  for  inscriptions  in  lead- 
pencil.  Then  he  swept  the  crumbs  and  apple-cores  care- 
fully off  the  floor  and  delivered  judgment  at  large. 

"  I  dinna  ken  what  Maister  Osbourne  was  thinkin'  on 
to  begin  sic  a  Popish  whigmaleery  as  this  Sabbath-schule ! 
A  disgrace  an'  a  mockin'  in  the  hoose  o'  God !  What 
kens  the  like  o'  Sammle  Borthwick  aboot  the  divine 
decrees  ?  When  I,  mysel',  that  has  heard  them  treated 
on  for  forty  year  under  a'   the  Elect   Ministers   o'  the 


BEADLE    AND    MAk  1A  I;  L25 

Land,  can  do  iw  more  than  barely  understand  them  to  t. 
day!     And  a  wheen  silly  lasses,  wr  gum-floo'ers  in  tl. 
bonnets  to  listen  to  bairns  huniinerin'  ower  '  .Man's  Ch 
End ' !     It's  eneuch  to  gar  decent  Doctor  Syminton  turn 
in  his  grave!     -.Man's  Chief  End'  —  faith  —  it's  wun 
man's  chief  end  that  they're  thinkin'  on.  the  ma 
bhey  think   I  dinna  see  them  shakin'  their  gum-floo'i 
and  glancing  their  e'en  in  the  direction  o'  the  onmarrii 
teacher  bodies " 

••  And  such  are  all  they  that  put  their  trust  in  them!" 
concluded  Willie,  somewhat  irrelevantly. 

"Laddie,  come  doon  out  o'  the  pulpit.  I  canna  lippen 
(trust)  ony  body  to  dust  that,  bena  mysel' !  Gang  and 
pick  up  the  conversation  lozengers  aff  the  floor  o'  the 
Young  Weenien's  Bible  Cless  !  " 

Printed  words  can  give  small  indication  of  the  intense 
bitterness  and  mordant  satire  of  AVillie's  speech  as  he 
uttered  these  last  words. 

Yet  Willie  was  far  from  being  a  hater  of  womenkind. 
Indeed,  the  end  of  all  his  moralising  was  ever  the 
same. 

"  There's  my  ain  guid  wife  —  was  there  ever  a  woman 
like  her  ?  Snod  as  a  new  preen,  yet  nocht  gaudy,  naeth- 
ing  ken-speckle.  If  only  the  young  weemen  nooadays 
were  like  Betty,  they  wad  hae  nae  need  o'  gum-floo'ers 
an5  ither  abominations.  Na,  nor  yet  Bible  clesses  ! 
Faith,  set  them  up  !  It  wad  better  become  them  to 
sit  them  doon  wi5  their  Bibles  in  their  laps  and  the 
grace  o'  God  in  their  hearts,  an'  tak'  a  lesson  to  themsel's 
oot  o'  Paaal !  " 

Here  Willie  dusted  the  pulpit  cushions,  vigorously 
shaking  them  as  a  terrn  a  rat,  and  then  carefully 


126  BEADLE   AND   MARTYB, 

brushing  them  all  in  one  direction,  in  order  that,  as  he 
said,  "  the  fell  may  a'  lie  the  yae  way." 

Willie  was  no  eye  servant.  No  spider  took  hold  with 
her  hands  and  was  in  the  Palace  of  Willie's  King.  Dust 
had  no  habitation  there,  and  if  a  man  did  not  clean  his 
boots  on  the  mat  before  entering,  Willie  went  to  him 
personally  and  told  him  his  probable  chances  of  a  happy 
hereafter.     These  were  but  few  and  evil. 

Then  having  got  the  "  shine  "  to  fall  as  he  wanted  it, 
and  the  dark  purple  velvet  overhang,  pride  of  his  heart, 
to  sit  to  a  nicety,  Willie  lifted  up  the  heavy  tassels,  and 
at  the  same  time  resumed  the  thread  of  his  discourse, 
standing  there  in  the  pulpit  with  the  very  port  of  a 
minister,  and  in  his  speech  a  point  and  pith  that  was 
all  his  own. 

"Aye,  Paul"  (he  always  pronounced  it  Paaal)  —  "aye, 
Paaai,  it's  a  peety  ye  never  marriet  and  left  nae  faim'ly 
that  we  ken  o'.  For  we  hae  sair  need  o'  ye  in  thae  days. 
But  ye  kenned  better  than  to  taigle  yerseP  wi'  silly 
lasses.  It  was  you  that  bade  the  young  weemen  to  be 
keepers  at  hame  —  nae  Bible  clesses  for  Paaal  —  na, 
na ! 

"  And  you  mind  Peter  —  oh,  Peter  was  juist  as  soond 
on  gum-floo'ers  an'  weemen's  falderals  as  Paaal,  '  Whose 
adorning,  let  it  not  be  the  outward  adorning  of  plaiting 
the  hair,  and  wearing  of  gold,  and  putting  on  of  apparel, 
but  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  speerit ' : 

He  stopped  in  the  height  of  his  discourse  and  waggled 
his  hand  down  at  me. 

"  Here,  bey  !  "  he  cried,  "  what  did  ye  do  wi'  thae  con- 
versation lozengers  ?  " 

I  indicated  that  I  had  them  still  in  my  pocket,  for  I 


BEADLE    AM)    MAKTYI;  127 

had  meant  to  solace  the  long  road  home  with  the  cleaner 
of  them. 

"Let  me  see  them  !  " 

Somewhat  unwillingly  T  handed  them  up  to  "Willie  as 
he  stood  in  the  pulpit,  a  different  Willie,  an  accusing 
Willie,  Nathan  the  Prophet  with  a  large  cloth-brush 
under  his  arm. 

••  When  this  you  see,  remember  me  ! " 

He  read  the  printed  words  through  his  glasses 
deliberately. 

••Aye,"  he  sneered,  "that  wad  be  Mag  Kinstrey.     I 
saw  Rob  Cuthbert  smirkin'  ower  at  her  when  the  minis- 
ter was  look  in'  up  yon  reference  to  Melchisadek.     Aye, 
Meg,  I'll  remember  ye — I'll  no  forget  ye.     And  if 
mend  not  your  ways " 

Willie  did  not  conclude  the  sentence,  but  instead,  he 
shook  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  door  of  the  Session 
house. 

He  picked  out  another. 

"  The  rose  is  red  —  the  violet's  blue, 
But  fairer  far,  my  love,  are  you  !  " 

Willie  opened  the  door  of  the  pulpit. 

"  Preserve  me,  what  am  I  doin'  ?  It's  fair  profanation 
to  be  readin'  sic  balderdash  in  a  place  like  this.  Laddie, 
hear  ye  this,  whatever  ye  hae  to  say  to  a  lass,  gang  ye 
and  say  it  to  hersel',  by  yoursel'.  For  valenteens  are  a 
vain  thing,  and  conversation  lozengers  a  mock  and  an 
abomination." 

Willie  threatened  me  a  moment  with  uplifted  finger, 
and  then  added  his  stereotyped  conclusion :  "  And  so  are 
all  such  as  put  their  trust  in  them !  " 


128  BEADLE   AND   MARTYR 

And  through  life  I  have  acted  strictly  on  Willie's 
advice,  and  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  I  have  found  it 
good. 

About  this  period,  also,  I  began  to  take  tea,  not  infre- 
quently, with  Willie,  and  occasionally,  but  not  often,  I 
saw  his  wife,  the  incomparable  Betty,  whose  praises 
Willie  was  never  tired  of  singing.  I  am  forced  to  say 
that,  after  these  harangues,  Betty  disappointed  me.  She 
sat  dumb  and  appeared  singularly  stupid,  and  this  to  a 
lad  accustomed  to  a  housewife  like  my  mother,  with  her 
woman's  wit  keen  as  a  razor,  and  a  speech  pointed  to 
needle  fineness,  appeared  more  than  strange. 

But  Willie's  affection  was  certainly  both  lovely  and 
lovable.  He  was  a  gnarled  gray  old  man  with  a  grim 
mouth,  but  for  Betty  he  ran  like  a  young  lover,  and 
served  her  with  meat  and  drink,  as  it  had  been  on 
bended  knee.  His  smile  was  ready  whenever  she  looked 
at  him,  and  he  watched  her  with  anxious  eyes,  dwelling 
on  her  every  word  and  movement  with  a  curious  pertur- 
bation. If  she  happened  not  to  be  in  when  he  came  to 
the  door,  he  would  fall  to  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and  the 
bleached  look  on  his  face  was  sad  to  see. 

Willie  McNair  dwelt  in  a  rickety  old  house  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  kirk  hill,  separated  from  the  other  village 
dwellings  by  the  breadth  of  a  field.  There  was  a  gar- 
den behind  it,  and  a  heathery  common  behind  that,  with 
whins  growing  to  the  very  dyke  of  Willie's  kail-yard. 

The  first  time  that  Betty  was  not  in  the  house  when 
we  went  home,  it  was  to  the  hill  behind  that  Willie  ran 
first.  Under  a  broom  bush  he  found  her,  after  a  long 
search,  and  lifting  her  up  in  his  arms  he  carried  her  to 
the  house. 


BEADLE    AND    MAKTYK  129 

"  Poor  Betty,*'  he  cried  over  his  shoulder  as  he  went, 
before  me  down  the  walk  ;  "  she  shouldna  gang  oot  on 
sic  a  warm  day.  The  sun  has  been  ower  muckle  for  her. 
See,  boy,  rin  doon  to  the  Tinkler's  well  tor  some  caller 
water.     The  can's  at  the  gable  end.'' 

When  I  returned  Betty  was  quietly  in  bed  ;  and  Wil- 
lie had  made  the  tea  with  ordinary  water.  He  was 
somewhat  more  composed,  but  I  could  see  his  hand 
shake  when  he  tried  to  pour  out  the  first  cup.  He 
"  skailed  "  it  all  over  the  cloth,  and  then  was  angered 
with  himself  for  what  he  called  his  "  trimlin'  auld  banes." 

But  1  never  knew  or  suspected  Willie's  secret  till  that 
awful  Sabbath  day,  when  the  cross  that  he  had  borne  so 
long  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  men,  was  suddenly  lifted 
high  in  air. 

Then  all  at  once  Willie  towered  like  a  giant,  and  the 
bowed  shoulders  seemed  to  support  a  gray  head  about 
which  had  become  visible  an  apparent  aureole. 

It  was  the  day  of  High  Communion,  and  the  solemn 
services  were  drawing  to  a  yet  more  solemn  close.  The 
elements  had  been  dispensed  and  the  elders  were  back 
again  in  their  places.  Mr.  Osbourne  had  Dr.  Landsbor- 
ough  of  Fortmarnock  assisting  him  that  day  —  a  tali 
man  with  a  gracious  manner,  and  the  only  man  who 
could  give  an  after-communion  address  without  his 
words  being  resented  as  an  intrusion. 

"  It  is  always  difficult,"  he  said,  "  to  disturb  the  pecul- 
iarly sacred  pause  which  succeeds  the  act  of  communion 
by  any  words  of  man " 

He  had  got  no  farther  when  he  stopped,  and  the  con- 
gregation regarded  him  with  the  strained  attention 
which   a  beautiful  voice  always    compels.     The   beadle 


130  BEADLE   AND  MAETYB, 

was  sitting  in  all  the  reasonable  pride  of  his  dignity  in 
the  first  pew  to  the  right  of  the  Session.  When  Dr. 
Landsborough  stopped,  the  congregation  followed  the 
direction  of  his  eyes. 

The  door  at  the  back  of  the  kirk  was  seen  to  be  open 
and  a  woman  stood  there,  dishevelled,  wild-eyed,  a  black 
bottle  in  her  shaking  hand,  a  red  shawl  about  her  head. 

It  was  Betty  McNair. 

"  Willie ! "  she  cried  aloud  in  the  awful  silence, 
"Willie,  come  forth  —  you  that  lockit  me  in  the  back 
kitchen,  an'  thocht  to  stop  me  f rae  the  saicrament  —  I 
hae  deceived  ye,  Willie  McNair,  clever  man  as  ye  think 
yersel' !  " 

I  was  in  the  corner  pew  opposite  Willie  (being,  of 
course,  a  non-communicant  at  that  date),  so  that  I  could 
see  his  face.  At  the  first  sound  of  that  voice  his  coun- 
tenance worked  as  if  it  would  change  its  shape,  but  in  a 
moment  I  saw  him  grip  the  book-board  and  stand  up. 
Then  he  went  quietly  down  the  aisle  to  Avhere  his  wife 
stood,  gabbling  wild  and  wicked  words,  and  laughing  till 
it  turned  the  blood  cold  to  hear  her  in  that  sacred  place, 
and  upon  that  solemn  occasion. 

Eirmly,  but  very  gently,  Willie  took  the  woman  by  the 
arm,  and  led  her  out.  She  went  like  a  lamb.  He  closed  the 
door  behind  him,  and  after  a  quaking  and  dreadful  pause, 
Dr.  Landsborough  took  up  the  interrupted  burden  of  his 
discourse. 

I  was  a  great  lad  of  twelve  or  thirteen  at  the  time  and 
unused  to  tears  for  many  years.  But  I  know  that  I 
wept  all  the  time  till  the  service  was  ended,  thinking  of 
Willie  and  wondering  where  he  was  and  what  he  would 
be  doing. 


BEADLE    AM)    MAKTVi;  131 

That  same  night  I  heard  my  father  telling  my  mother 
about  what  came  next. 

Th'  e  in  their  little  square  room  after  the 

service,  counting  the  tokens.  The  minister  was  sitting 
in  his  chair  waiting  to  dismiss  them  with  the  benediction, 
when  a  rap  came  to  the  door.  My  hither  opened  it,  being 
nearest,  and  there  without  stood  Willi'-  M<-Nair. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  the  Session,"  he  said  firmly. 

"Come  in  —  come  your  ways  in,  William,"  said  the 
minister,  kindly,  and  the  elders  resumed  their  seats,  not 
knowing  wh;it  was  to  happen. 

"Moderator  and  ruling  elders  of  this  congregation," 
said  Willie,  who  had  not  served  tables  so  long  without 
knowing  the  respect  due  to  his  spiritual  superiors,  "  I 
h;ive  come  before  you  in  the  day  of  my  shame  to  demit 
the  office  I  have  held  so  long  among  you.  Gentlemen,  I 
do  not  complain,  I  own  I  am  well  punished.  These 
twenty  years  I  have  lived  for  my  pride.  I  have  lied  to 
each  one  of  you — to  the  minister,  to  the  elders,  and  to 
the  hale  congregation,  making  a  roose  of  my  wife,  and 
sticking  at  nothing  to  hide  the  shame  of  my  house. 

"  Sirs,  for  these  lying  words,  it  behoves  that  ye  deal 
strictly  with  me,  and  I  will  submit  willingly.  But 
believe  me,  sirs,  it  was  through  a  godly  jealousy  that  I 
did  it.  that  the  Kirk  of  the  New  Testament  might  not  be 
made  ashamed  through  me  and  mine.  But  for  a'  that  I 
have  done  wrong,  grievous  wrong.  I  aye  kenned  in  my 
heart  that  it  would  come  —  though,  God  helping  me,  I 
never  thocht  that  it  would  be  like  this  ! 

•■  But  noo  I  maun  gang  awa',"  here  he  broke  into  dia- 
lect, "  for  i  never  could  bear  to  see  anither  man  carry  up 
the  Buiks  and  open  the  door  for  you,  sir,  to  enter  in. 


132  BEADLE  AND  MARTYR 

Forty  years  has  William  McNair  been  a  hewer  of  wood 
and  a  drawer  of  water  in  this  tabernacle.  Let  there  be 
pity  in  your  hearts  for  him  this  day.  He  hath  borne 
himself  with  pride,  and  for  that  the  Lord  hath  brought 
him  very  low.  And,  oh !  sirs,  pray  for  her  —  flesh  of  my 
flesh,  and  bone  of  my  bone,  come  to  what  ye  saw  this  day  ! 
Tell  me  that  He  will  forgie  —  be  sure  to  tell  me  that  He 
will  forgie  Betty  —  for  what  she  has  dune  this  day !  " 

The  minister  reassured  him  in  affectionate  words,  and 
the  whole  Session  tried  to  get  Willie  to  withdraw  his 
decision.     But  in  vain.     The  old  man  was  firm. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  Betty  is  noo  my  chairge.  The  hus- 
band of  a  drunkard  is  not  a  fit  person  to  serve  tables  in 
the  clean  and  halesome  sanctuary.  I  will  never  leave 
Betty  till  the  day  she  dees ! " 

And  neither  he  did.  It  was  not  long.  Willie  nursed 
his  wife  with  unremitting  tenderness,  breaking  himself 
down  as  he  did  so.  I  did  not  see  him  again  till  the  day 
of  Betty's  funeral.  I  went  with  my  father,  feeling  very 
important,  as  it  was  the  first  function  I  had  been  at  in 
my  new  character  of  a  man. 

When  they  were  filling  in  the  grave,  Willie  stood  at 
the  head  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  his  gray  locks 
waving  in  the  moderate  wind.  His  lips  were  tremulous, 
but  I  do  not  think  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

I  went  up  to  try  to  say  something  that  might  comfort 
him.  I  knew  no  better  then.  But  I  think  he  did  not 
wish  me  to  speak  about  Betty,  for  with  a  strange  uncer- 
tain kind  of  smile  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  till  they  rested 
upon  the  golden  fields  of  ripening  corn  all  about  the 
little  kirkyard. 


BEADLE   AND  MARTYR  133 

"  I  think  it  will  be  an  early  harvest,"  he  said,  in  a 
commonplace  tone. 

Then  all  suddenly  he  broke  into  a  kind  of  eager  sob- 
bing cry  —  a  heart-prayer  of  ultimate  agony. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  my  God  !  send  that  it  be  an  early  har- 
vest to  puir  Willie  McNair." 

*  #  #  *  #  # 

And  it  was,  for  before  a  sheaf  of  that  heartsome  yel- 
low corn  was  gathered  into  barn,  they  laid  Willie  beside 
the  woman  he  had  watched  so  long,  and  sheltered  so 
faithfully  behind  the  barriers  of  his  love. 


THE   BLUE  EYES   OE  AILLE 

"When  first  I  went  to  Cairn  Edward  as  a  medical  man 
on  my  own  account,  I  had  little  to  do  with  the  district 
of  Glenkells.  For  one  thing,  there  was  a  resident  doctor 
there,  Dr.  Campbell  —  Ignatius  Campbell  —  and  in  those 
days  professional  boundaries  were  more  strictly  observed 
than  they  have  been  in  more  recent  years.  But  in  time, 
whether  owing  to  the  natural  spread  of  my  practice,  or 
through  some  small  name  which  I  got  in  the  country- 
side, owing  to  a  successful  treatment  of  tubercular  cases, 
I  found  myself  oftener  and  oftener  in  the  Glenkells. 
And,  indeed,  ever  since  I  began  to  be  able  to  keep  a 
stated  assistant,  it  has  been  my  custom  to  take  day 
about  with  him  on  the  Glenkells  round. 

But  in.  what  follows  I  speak  of  the  very  early  years 
when  I  had  still  little  actual  connection  with  the  dis- 
trict. The  Glenkells  folk  are  always  in  the  habit  of 
referring  to  themselves  as  a  community  apart.  They 
may,  indeed,  in  extreme  cases  include  the  rest  of  the 
United  Kingdom  —  but,  as  it  were,  casually.  Thus,  "  If 
the  storm  continues  it  will  be  a  sair  winter  in  Glenkells, 
and  the  rest  o'  the  country  ! " 

Or  when  some  statesman  conspicuously  blundered,  or 
a  foreign  nation  involved  themselves  in  superfluous  dif- 
ficulties, you  could  not  go  into  a  farmhouse  or  traverse 
the  length  of   the  main  street  of  the  Clachan  without 

134 


THE    BLUE    I    i  ATTJH! 

hearing  the  words:    "The  like  o'  that  could  d 
happened  i1  the  Glenkellsl" 

So  there  arose  a  proverb  which,  thongh  of  local  ori  fin, 
was  not  without  a  certain  wider  acceptation:  "As  con- 
oeity  as  Grlenkell  in  a  more  diffuse  form:  "G 

kells  cock-  aye  croosesl  an5  on  amuckler  midden  ! " 

But  Glenkells  wooted  little  of  such  slurs,  or  if  it 
minded  at  all  took  them  for  compliments  with  a  solid 
and  irrefutable  foundation  On  the  other  hand,  it 
irted  upon  the  rest  of  the  world  in  characteristic 
ion,  visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  chil- 
dren unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  As  thus  : 
"  Tak'  care  o'  him.  He's  no  to  be  trustit.  His  grand- 
father cam*  frae  Borgue  ! "  Or,  more  allusively  :  "  A  . 
a  Nicholson  aye  needs  watchin'.  They  a'  come  frae 
Kirkcudbright,  where  the  jail  is  I" 

One  peculiarity  of  the  speech  of  this  country  within  a 
country  struck  me  more  than  all  the  others  —  perhaps 
because  it  came  in  the  line  of  my  own  profession. 

More  than  once  an  applicant  for  my  services  would 
say,  in  answer  to  my  question:  ''Have  you  called  in 
the  doctor  ? "  "  Oh,  no,  it  has  no  been  so  serious  as 
that ! "'  Succeedantly  I  would  find  that  Dr.  Ignatius 
Campbell  had  been  in  attendance  for  some  time,  and  t: 
I  ought  to  have  consulted  with  him  before,  as  it  were, 
jumping  his  claim. 

Dr.  Campbell  was  a  queer,  dusty,  smoky  old  man  who, 
when  seen  abroad,  sat  low  in  a  kind  of  basket-phaeton  — 
as  it  were,  on  the  small  of  his  back,  and  visited  his 
patients  in  a  kind  of  dreamy  exaltation  which  many  put 
down  to  drink.  They  were  wrong.  The  doctor  was 
something    much   harder   to   cure — an  habitual   opium- 


13G  THE    BLUE   EYES   OF    AILIE 

eater.  Somehow  Dr.  Campbell  had  never  taken  the  posi- 
tion in  the  Glenkells  to  which  his  abilities  entitled  him. 
He  came  from  the  North,  and  that  was  against  him. 
More  than  that,  he  sent  in  his  bills  promptly,  and  saw 
that  thev  were  settled.  Worst  of  all,  he  took  no  interest 
in  imaginary  diseases. 

He  openly  laughed  at  calomel  —  which  in  the  Glen- 
kells was  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  blaspheming  of  the 
Trinity.  But  he  was  a  duly  certified  graduate  of  Edin- 
burgh like  myself.  His  name  was  on  the  Medical  List, 
and  only  his  unfortunate  habit  and  the  dreamy  idleuess 
engendered  by  it  kept  him  from  making  a  very  consid- 
erable name  for  himself  in  his  profession.  I  found,  for 
instance,  after  his  death  (he  left  his  books,  papers,  and 
instruments  to  me)  that  he  had  actually  anticipated  in 
his  vague  theoretical  way  some  of  the  most  applauded 
discoveries  of  more  recent  times,  and  that  he  was  well 
versed  in  all  the  foreign  literature  of  such  subjects  as 
interested  him. 

But  Dr.  Ignatius  Campbell,  with  his  great  pipe,  his  low- 
crowned  hat,  his  seedy  black  clothes  with  the  fluff  sticking 
here  and  there  upon  them,  was  not  the  man  to  impress  the 
Glenkells.  For  in  Galloway  the  minister  may  go  about  in 
fishing-boots,  shooting- jacket,  and  deerstalker  if  he  will 
—  nobody  thinks  the  worse  of  him  for  it.  The  lawyer 
may  look  as  if  he  bought  his  clothes  from  a  slopshop. 
The  country  gentleman  may  wear  a  suit  of  tweeds  for 
ten  years,  till  the  leather  gun-patch  on  the  shoulder 
threatens  to  pervade  the  whole  man,  back  and  front. 
But  the  doctor,  if  he  would  be  successful,  must  perforce 
dress  strictly  by  rule.  Sunday  and  Saturday  he  must  go 
buttoned  up  in  his  well-fitting  surtout.     His  hat  must  be 


I  III.    BLUE    i   fEfi    OF    AILIE  1:;. 

glossy,  no  matter  what  th<  may  be  (for  myself 

I  always  kept  a  spare  one  in  the  box  of  I  .    ad  tlip 

whol''  man  upon  i  nl  tring  room  q  ring  with 

aim  the  fragrance  of  clean  Linen,  good  clothes,  and  per- 
sonal exactitude.  Ajid  though  aaturally  a  little  rebellious 
al   fir  t,  1  hereby  Bub  cribe  to  the  Galloway  view  of  the 

(■use. 

Nance  converted  me. 

••  U  thai  a  clean  collar? — no.  sir,  you  don't !  Take  it 
off  this  instanl  !  1  think  this  tie  will  suit  you  better. 
It  is  a  dull  day  and  something  light  becomes  you.  1 
have  ironed  your  other  ha  I.  See  that  you  put  it  on! 
Let  mi'  look  at  your  cuffs.  .Mind  that  you  turn  down 
your  trousers  before  you  come  in  sight  of  the  house. 
.John"  (this  to  my  driver),  ••  see  that  Dr.  McQuhirr  turns 
down  his  trousers  and  puts  on  his  hat  right  side  first. 
There  is  a  dint  at  the  back  that  I  cannot  quite  get  out!  " 

It  is  no  wonder  that  I  succeeded  in  Galloway,  having 
such  a — I  mean  being  endowed  with  such  professional 
talents  ! 

1  had  not,  however,  been  long  in  Glenkells  before  I 
found  out  that  there  was  another  medical  adviser  on  the 
scene  —  a  kind  of  Brownie  who  did  Dr.  Campbell's  work 
while  lie  slept  or  dreamed  his  life  away  over  his  pipe 
and  his  coloured  diagrams,  whose  very  name  was  never 
mentioned,  to  me  at  least  —  perhaps  from  some  idea  that 
as  an  orthodox  professional  man  I  might  resent  the 
Brownie's   intrusion. 

But  matters  came  to  a  head  one  day  when  T  found 
the  bottle  of  medicine  1  had  sent  up  from  tin-  Cairn 
Edward  apothecary  standing  untouched  on  the  mantel- 
piece, while  another  and   wholly  unlicensed  phial  stood 


138  THE   BLUE  EYES   OF  AILIE 

at  the  bed-head  with  a  glass  beside  it,  in  which  lingered 
a  few  drops  of  something  which  I  knew  well  that  I  had 
not  prescribed. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  I  demanded.  "  Why  have  you  not 
administered  the  medicine  I  sent  you  ?  " 

The  woman  put  her  apron  to  her  lips  in  some  embar- 
rassment. 

"  Oh,  doctor  —  ye  see  the  way  o't  was  this,"  she  said. 
"  Jeems  was  ta'en  that  bad  in  the  nicht  that  I  had  to 
caa'  in  —  a  neebour  o'  oors  —  an'  he  brocht  this  wi' 
him." 

I  lifted  my  hat. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Landsborough,"  I  said,  with 
immense  dignity ;  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  retire  from 
the  case.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  go  on  if  you  disre- 
gard my  instructions  in  that  manner.  No  doubt  Dr. 
Campbell " 

The  good  woman  lifted  up  her  hands  in  amazement 
and  appeal.  Even  Jeems  turned  on  his  bed  in  quick 
alarm. 

"  'Deed,  Dr.  Ma  Whurr ! "  she  cried,  "  it  wasna  Dr. 
Cawmell  ava.     We  wadna  think  on  sic  a  thing " 

"Your  faither's  son  will  never  gang  oot  o'  a  Mac- 
Landsborough's  hoose  in  anger,  surely  ? "  said  Jeems, 
making  the  final  Galloway  appeal  to  the  clan  spirit. 

This  was  conjuring  with  a  name  I  could  not  disavow, 
and  strongly  against  my  first  intentions  I  continued  to 
attend  the  case.  Jeems  got  rapidly  better,  and  my 
bottle  diminished  steadily  day  by  day.  But  whether  it 
went  down  Jeems's  throat  or  mended  the  health  of  the 
back  of  the  grate,  it  was  better,  perhaps,  that  I  did  not 
inquire  too  closely.     On  my  way  home  I  considered  my 


THE    BLUE    EYES    <>K    A  11.11.  130 

own  prescription,  and  recalled  the  in  ata  which  by 

taste  and  smell  I  discovered  in  the  intruding  bol 

"I  am  not  sure  but  what  —  well,  it  might  have  been 
better.  I  wonder  who  the  man  is?"  This  was  as  much 
as  1  could  be  brought  to  admit  in  those  days,  even  to 
myself.  The  doctor  who  in  the  first  years  of  his  prac- 
tice does  not  think  more  of  the  sacredness  of  his  diag- 
nosis than  of  his  married  wife  and  all  his  family  unto 
cousins  six  times  removed,  is  not  fit  to  be  trusted  —  not 
so  much  as  with  the  administering  of  one  Beecham's  pill. 

Yet  I  own  the  matter  troubled  me.  I  had  a  rival 
who  —  no,  he  did  not  understand  more  of  the  case  than 
myself.  But  all  the  same,  I  wanted  to  find  him  out  — 
in  the  interests  of  the  Medical  Kegister. 

But  the  riddle  was  resolved  one  day  about  a  week 
afterwards  in  a  rather  remarkable  manner.  I  was  pro- 
ceeding up  the  long  main  street  of  the  Claehan,  looking 
for  a  house  in  which  Dr.  Campbell  (with  whom  of  late 
I  had  grown  strangely  intimate)  had  told  me  that  he 
would  be  found  at  a  certain  hour. 

As  I  went  I  noticed,  what  I  had  never  seen  before,  a 
little  house,  white  and  clean  without,  the  creepers  clam- 
bering all  over  it.  This  agreed,  so  far,  with  the  doctor's 
description.  I  turned  aside  and  went  up  two  or  three 
carefully  reddened  steps.  A  brass  knocker  blinked  in 
the  evening  sunshine.     I  lifted  it  and  knocked. 

"  Is  the  doctor  in  ? "  I  said  to  a  tall  gaunt  woman 
who  opened  the  door  an  inch  or  two.  As  it  was  I  could 
only  see  a  lenticular  section  of  her  person,  so  that  in 
describing  her  I  draw  upon  later  impressions.  She  hesi- 
tated a  second  or  two,  and  then,  rather  grudgingly  as  I 
thought,  opened  the  door. 


140  THE   BLUE   EYES   OF  AILIE 

"  Come  in,"  she  said. 

With  no  more  greeting  than  that  she  ushered  me  into 
a  small  room  crowded  with  books  and  apparatus.  The 
table  held  a  curious  microscope,  evidently  home-made  in 
most  of  its  fittings.  Pieces  of  mechanism,  the  purpose 
of  which  I  could  not  even  guess,  were  strewn  about  the 
floor.  Castings  were  gripped  angle-wise  in  vices,  and  at 
the  end  of  an  ordinary  carpenter's  bench  stood  a  small 
blacksmith's  furnace,  with  bellows  and  anvil  all  com- 
plete. In  the  recess,  half  hidden  by  a  screen,  I  could 
catch  a  glimpse  of  a  lathe.  There  was  no  carpet  on  the 
floor. 

The  door  opened  and  a  small  spare  man  stood  before 
me,  the  deprecation  of  an  offending  dog  in  his  beautiful 
brown  eyes.  He  did  not  speak  or  offer  to  shake  hands, 
but  only  stood  shyly  looking  up  at  me.  It  was  some 
time  before  I  could  find  words.  Nance  often  tells  me 
that  I  need  a  push  behind  to  enable  me  to  take  the  lead 
in  any  conversation  —  except  with  herself,  that  is,  and 
then  I  never  get  a  chance. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  doctor,''  said  I,  "  I  was  seeking 
my  friend  Campbell.  I  did  not  know  you  had  settled 
amongst  us,  or  I  should  have  been  to  call  on  you  before 
this." 

I  held  out  my  hand  cordially,  for  the  man  appealed  to 
me  somehow.     But  he  did  not  seem  to  notice  it. 

"  No,  not  '  doctor,' "  he  said,  speaking  in  a  quick 
agitated  way.     i(  Mister  —  Roger  is  my  name." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  sure,"  I  stammered;  "in 
that  case  I  do  not  know  how  to  excuse  my  intrusion.  I 
asked  for  the  doctor,  meaning  Dr.  Campbell,  and  your 
servant " 


THE    BLUE    EYES    OF    AJLIE  1  tl 

"My  mother,  sir  !  " 

There  was  pride  as  well   as  challenge   in  the    bro 
eyes  now,  and  I  fouml  myself  liking  the  young  man  bet- 
ter than  ever. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  —  Mrs.  Roger  showed  me  in  by 
mistake,  I  fear." 

"It  was  no  mistake  —  I  am  sometimes  called  so  in 
this  place,  though  not  by  my  own  will  ;  I  have  no  right 
to  the  title ! " 

••  Well,"  I  said,  as  I  looked  round  the  room,  '•  won't 
you  shake  hands  with  me  ?  You  don't  know  what  a  pleas- 
ure it  is  to  meet  a  man  of  science,  as  it  is  evident  you 
are,  here  in  these  forlorn  uplands  !  " 

"Will  you  pardon  me  a  moment  till  I  inform  you 
exactly  of  my  status  ?  "  he  said,  "  and  when  you  clearly 
understand,  if  you  still  wish  to  shake  my  hand  —  well, 
with  all  my  heart." 

He  stood  silent  a  moment,  and  then,  suddenly  recol- 
lecting himself,  •  Will  you  not  sit  down  ? "  he  said. 
"Pray  forgive  my  discourtesy." 

I  sat  down,  displacing  as  I  did  so  a  box  of  tools  which 
had  been  planted  on  the  green  rep  of  the  easy-chair  cover. 

"  You  may  well  be  astonished  that  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you,  Dr.  McQuhirr,"  he  said,  beginning  restlessly  to  pace 
the  room,  mechanically  avoiding  the  various  obstacles  on 
the  floor  as  he  did  so ;  "  but  I  have  long  wished  to  put 
myself  right  with  a  member  of  the  profession,  and  now 
that  chance  has  thrown  us  together,  I  feel  that  I  musl 
speak " 

"  But  there  is  Dr.  Campbell —  surely  it  cannot  be  that 
two  men  of  such  kindred  tastes,  in  a  small  place  like 
this,  should  not  know  each  other  1  " 


142  THE   BLUE  EYES   OF  AILIE 

He  flushed  painfully,  and  turning  to  a  stand  near  the 
window,  played  with  the  flywheel  of  a  small  model,  turn- 
ing it  back  and  forward  with  his  finger. 

"Dr.  Campbell  is  the  victim  of  a  most  unfortunate 
prejudice,"  he  murmured  softly,  and  for  a  space  said  no 
more.  It  was  so  still  in  the  room  that  through  the  quiet 
I  could  hear  the  tall  eight-day  clock  ticking  half-way  up 
the  stairs. 

He  resumed  his  narrative  and  his  pacing  to  a-nd  fro  at 
the  same  moment. 

"lam,"  he  went  on,  "at  heart  of  your  profession.  I 
have  attended  all  the  classes  and  earned  the  encomiums 
of  my  professors  in  the  hospitals.  I  stood  fairly  well  in 
the  earlier  written  examinations,  but  at  my  first  oral  I 
broke  down  completely  —  a  kind  of  aphasia  came  over 
me.  My  brain  reeled,  a  dreadful  shuddering  took  hold 
of  my  soul,  and  I  fell  into  a  dead  faint.  Eor  months 
they  feared  for  my  reason,  and  though  ultimately  I 
recovered  and  completed  my  course  cf  study,  I  was  never 
able  to  sit  down  at  an  examination-table  again.  After 
my  fathers  death  my  mother  settled  here,  and  gradually 
it  has  come  about  that  in  any  emergency  I  have  been 
asked  to  visit  and  prescribe  for  a  patient.  I  believe  the 
poor  people  call  me  'doctor'  among  themselves,  but  I 
have  never  either  countenanced  the  title,  or  on  any  occa- 
sion failed  to  rebuke  the  user.  Neither  have  I  ever  ac- 
cepted fee  or  reward,  whether  for  advice  or  medicine !  " 

I  held  out  my  hand. 

"  I  care  not  a  brass  farthing  about  professional  eti- 
quette," said  I ;  "it  is  my  opinion  that  you  are  doing  a 
noble  work.  And  I  know  of  one  case,  at  least,  where 
your  diagnosis  was  better  than  mine ! " 


THE    BLUB    EYES   <>F    AJLIE  I  l". 

MEore  1  could  not  say.      He  flushed  redly  and  my 

hand,  shaking  it  warmly.  Then  all  at  once  lie  dropped 
the  somewhat  strained  elevation  of  manner  in  which  he 
had  told  his  story,  and  began  to  Bp<  ak  with  the  innocenl 
confidence  and  unreserve  of  a  child.  He  was  obviously 
much  pleased  at  my  inferred  compliment. 

••  Ah!  "  he  said,  "I  know  what  you  mean.  But  then, 
you  see,  you  did  not  know  James  MacLandsborough's 
life  history.  He  was  my  father's  gardener.  I  knew  his 
record  and  the  record  of  his  father  before  him.  It  was 
nothing  but  an  old  complaint,  for  which  I  had  treated 
him  over  and  over  again  —  working,  that  is,  on  the 
basis  of  a  recent  chill.  In  your  place  and  with  your 
data  I  should  have  done  what  you  did.  In  fact,  I  ad- 
mired your  treatment  greatly." 

We  talked  a  long  while,  so  long,  indeed,  that  I  forgot 
all  about  Dr.  Campbell,  and  it  was  dusk  before  I  found 
myself  at  Mr.  Roger's  door  saying  "  Good-night." 

"  If  I  might  venture  to  say  so,"  he  stammered,  hold- 
ing my  hand  a  moment  in  his  quick  nervous  grasp,  "  I 
would  advise  you  not  to  mention  your  visit  here  to  your 
friend,  Dr.  Campbell." 

"I  am  afraid.  1  must,''  I  replied;  "I  had  an  appoint- 
ment with  him  which  I  have  unfortunately  forgotten  in 
the  interest  of  our  talk  ! " 

"Then  I  much  fear  that  it  is  not  'Good-night'  but 
'  Good-bye '  between  us !  "  he  murmured  sadly,  and  went 
within. 

And  even  as  he  had  prophesied  so  it  was. 

#  #  *  *  *  * 

"Sir,"  said  Dr.  Campbell,  "I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose 
your  society,  but  you  must  choose  between  that  house  and 


144  THE   BLUE   EYES   OE   AILIE 

mine.  I  have  special  and  family  reasons  why  I  cannot 
be  intimate  with  any  visitor  to  Mr. ah,  Eoger  !  " 

I  had  found  the  doctor  lying  on  his  couch,  as  was  his 
custom,  his  curious  Oriental  tray  beside  him,  and  an 
acrid  tang  in  the  air ;  but  at  my  first  words  about  my 
visit  he  shook  off  his  dreamy  abstraction  and  sat  up. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Campbell,"  I  said  as  calmly  as 
possible,  for,  of  course,  I  could  not  allow  any  one  (except 
Nance)  to  dictate  to  me,  "  I  was  singularly  interested  in 
the  young  man,  and  —  he  told  his  tale,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  quite  frankly.  If  I  am  not  to  call  upon  him,  I  must 
ask  you  as  to  your  reasons  for  a  request  so  singular." 

"  It  is  not  a  request,  McQuhirr,"  said  the  doctor,  pass- 
ing his  hand  across  his  brow  as  if  to  clear  away  mois- 
ture. "It  is  only  a  little  information  I  give  you  for 
your  guidance.  If  you  wish  to  visit  this  young  man  — 
well,  I  am  deeply  grieved,  but  I  cannot  receive  you  here, 
or  have  any  intercourse  with  you  professionally." 

"  That  is  saying  too  much  or  too  little,"  I  replied ; 
"you  must  tell  me  your  reasons." 

Then  he  hesitated,  looking  from  side  to  side  in  a 
semi-dazed  way. 

"  I  would  rather  not  —  they  are  family  reasons  !  "  he 
stammered,  as  he  spoke. 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  seal  of  the  profession," 
I  reminded  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  will  tell  you.  That  young 
man  is  my  nephew,  the  son  of  my  elder  brother.  His 
name  is  not  Roger,  but  Roger  Campbell.  His  mother 
was  my  poor  brother's  housekeeper.  He  married  her 
some  time  after  his  first  wife's  death.  This  boy  was 
their  child,  and,  like  a  cuckoo  in  the  nest,  he  tried  from 


THE   BLUB    EYES   OF   ATTJTI  L45 

tho  first  to  oust  his  elder  brother  —  the  child  of  the 
dead    woman,     [ndeed,   but    for    my    interfer  his 

mother  and  he  would  have  done  it  between  them;  for 
my  brother  was  latterly  wholly  in  their  ban 

••  Finally  this  lad  went  to  college,  and  coming  here  one 
summer  after  the  breaking  up  of  the  classes  he  must 
needs  fall  in  love  with  Ailie  —  my  daughter,  that  is. 
What '.'  —  You  never  knew  that  I  had  a  daughter  !  Ah, 
Alec,  1  was  not  always  the  man  you  see  me — I  too  have 
had  ambitions.  But  after  —  veil,  what  use  is  there  to 
speak  of  it?  At  any  rate,  young  Roger  Campbell  fell 
in  love  with  my  Ailie,  and  she,  I  suppose,  liked  it  well 
enough,  but  like  a  sensible  girl  gave  him  no  immediate 
answer.  Then  after  that  came  his  half-brother,  who  was 
heir  to  the  little  property  on  Loch  Awe  and  he  too 

fell  in  love  with  Ailie.  There  was  no  girl  like,  her  in  all 
the  (lien  of  Kells  ;  and  as  for  him,  he  was  a  tall,  hand- 
some, fair  lad,  not  crowled  and  misshapen  like  this  one. 
Well,  Ailie  and  he  fell  in  love,  and  then  Roger's  mother 
moved  heaven  and  earth  to  disinherit  Archie.  I;  was  for 
this  cause  that  T  went  up  to  Inchtaggart  and  watched 
my  brother  during  the  last  weeks  of  his  life.  The  woman 
fought  like  a  wild  cat  for  her  son,  but  I  and  Archie 
watched  in  turns.  It  was  I  who  found  the  will  by 
which  Archie  inherited  all.  In  three  months  Ailie  and  he 
were  married.  Roger  Campbell  failed  in  his  examina- 
tions the  same  year,  and  the  next  mother  and  son  came 
back  here  to  her  native  village  to  live  on  their  savings. 

"The  mere  choice  of  this  place  showed  their  spite 
against  me,  but  that  is  not  the  worst.  E\-er  since  that 
day  they  have  devoted  themselves  to  discrediting  me  in 
my  profession.     And  you,  who  know  these  people,  know 


146  THE   BLUE  EYES   OE  AILIE 

to  what  an  extent  they  have  succeeded.  My  practice  has 
shrunk  to  nothing  —  almost.  Even  the  patients  I  have, 
when  they  do  call  me  in,  send  secretly  for  my  enemy 
before  my  feet  are  cold  off  the  doorstep.  Yet  I  have  no 
redress,  for  I  have  never  been  able  to  bring  a  case  of  tak- 
ing fees  home  to  him.     Ah  !  if  only  I  could ! " 

Dr.  Ignatius  foil  back  exhausted,  for  towards  the  last 
he  had  been  talking  with  a  vehemence  that  shook  the 
casements  and  set  the  prisms  of  the  little  old  chandelier 
a-tingling. 

"  And  that  is  why  I  say  you  must  choose  between 
us,"  he  said.  "  Is  it  not  enough  ?  Have  I  asked  too 
much  ?  " 

"  It  is  enough  for  me,"  I  said  ;  "  I  will  do  as  you  wish  !  " 

Now  I  did  not  see  anything  in  his  story  very  much 
against  the,  young  man ;  but,  after  all,  the  lad  was  noth- 
ing to  me,  and  I  had  known  Dr.  Ignatius  a  long  time. 

So  I  asked  him  how  it  came  that  the  young  man  was 
called  Boger  and  not  Campbell. 

"  Oh  ! "  he  said,  "  that  is  the  one  piece  of  decent  feel- 
ing he  has  shown  in  the  whole  affair.  He  called  himself 
Campbell  Eoger  when  he  came  here.  You  are  the  only 
person  who  knows  that  he  is  my  nephew." 

I  was  glad  afterwards  that  I  had  made  him  the  prom- 
ise he  asked  for.  I  never  saw  him  in  life  again.  Dr. 
Ignatius  Campbell  died  two  days  after,  being  found  dead 
in  bed  with  his  tiny  pipe  clutched  in  his  hand.  I  went 
up  that  same  day,  and  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  John 
Thoburn  Brown  of  Drum  fern,  found  that  our  colleague 
had  long  suffered  from  an  acute  form  of  heart  disease, 
and  that  it  was  wonderful  how  he  had  survived  so  long. 


THE   BLUE    EYES   OF    AILIE  I  IT 

The  body  was  lying  at  the  time  in  the  room  where  h© 
died.  The  maid-servant  had  gone  to  stay  with  relatives 
in  the  village,  not  being  willing  to  remain  all  night  in 
the  house  alone;  for  which,  all  things  considered,  I  did 
not  greatly  blame  her.  I  asked  if  there  was  anything  L 
could  do,  but  was  informed  that  all  arrangements  for  the 
funeral  had  been  made.  It  was  to  be  on  the  Friday,  two 
days  after. 

I  drove  up  the  glen  early  that  morning,  and  found  a 
tall  young  man  in  the  house,  opening  drawers  and  rum- 
maging among  papers.  I  understood  at  once  that  this 
was  Mr.  Archibald  Campbell  of  Inchtaggart.  I  greeted 
him  by  that  name,  and  he  responded  heartily  enough. 

"You  are  Dr.  McQuhirr,"  he  said;  "my  father-in-law 
often  spoke  about  you  and  how  kind  you  were  to  him. 
You  know  that  he  has  left  all  his  books,  papers,  and  sci- 
entific apparatus  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know,"  I  said;  "that  is  as  unexpected  as 
it  is  undeserved,  and  I  hope  yon  will  act  precisely  as  if 
such  a  bequest  had  not  existed.  You  must  take  all  that 
either  you  or  your  wife  would  care  to  possess." 

"  Oh  ! "  he  cried  lightly,  "  Ailie  could  not  come.  She 
has  been  ill  lately,  and  as  for  me,  I  would  not  touch  one 
of  the  beastly  things  with  a  ten-foot  pole.  Come  into 
the  garden  and  have  a  smoke." 

There  Mr.  Archibald  Campbell  told  me  that  he  had  ar- 
ranged for  a  sale  of  the  doctor's  house  and  all  his  effects 
as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Better  to  have  it  over,"  he  said,  "  so  you  had  as  well 
bring  up  a  conveyance  and  cart  off  all  the  scientific  rub- 
bish you  care  about.  I  want  all  settled  up  and  done 
with  within  the  month." 


148  THE   BLUE   EYES   OF   AILIE 

He  departed  the  night  after  the  funeral,  leaving  the 
funeral  expenses  unpaid.  He  was  a  hasty  though  well- 
meaning  young  man,  and  no  doubt  he  forgot.  When  I 
came  up  on  the  Monday  of  the  week  following,  I  dis- 
covered that  the  account  had  been  paid. 

****** 

After  I  had  made  my  selection  of  books  and  instru- 
ments, besides  taking  all  the  manuscripts  (watched  from 
room  to  room  by  the  Drumfern  lawyer's  sharp  eye),  I 
strolled  out,  and  my  steps  turned  involuntarily  towards 
the  little  house  covered  with  creepers  where  I  had  seen 
the  young  man  Koger.  I  felt  that  death  had  absolved 
me  from  my  promise,  and  with  a  quick  resolve  I  turned 
aside. 

The  same  woman  opened  the  door  an  inch  or  two.  I 
lifted  my  hat  and  asked  if  her  son  was  in. 

She  held  the  door  open  for  me  without  speaking  a 
word  and  ushered  me  into  the  model-strewn  little  par- 
lour. I  cast  my  eyes  about.  On  the  table  lay  the  dis- 
charged account  for  the  funeral  expenses  of  Dr.  Ignatius 
Campbell ! 

In  another  moment  the  door  opened  and  the  young 
man  came  in,  paler  than  before,  and  with  the  slight  halt 
in  his  gait  exaggerated. 

'•'  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Campbell  ? "  I  said  quietly, 
holding  out  my  hand. 

He  gave  back  a  step,  almost  as  if  I  had  struck  him. 
Then  he  smiled  wanly.  "  Ah !  he  told  you.  I  expected 
he  would ;  and  yet  you  have  come  ?  "  He  spoke  slowly, 
the  words  coming  in  jerks. 

I  held  out  my  hand  and  said  heartily:  "Of  course  I 
came." 


THE   BLUE  EYES   OF    AILIK  L49 

I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  him  anything  about 
my  agreement  with  Dr.  Campbell.  He,  on  his  part,  had 
quietly  possessed  himself  of  John  Ewart's  bill  for  the 
funeral  expenses.  We  had  a  long  talk,  and  I  stayed  so 
late  that  Nance  had  begun  to  get  anxious  about  me 
before  I  arrived  home.  But  not  one  word,  either  in  jus- 
tification of  himself  or  of  accusation  against  his  uncle, 
did  he  utter,  though  he  must  have  known  well  enough 
what  his  uncle  had  said  of  him. 

Nor  was  it  till  a  couple  of  months  afterwards  that 
Roger  Campbell  adverted  again  to  the  subject.  I  had 
been  to  the  churchyard  to  look  at  the  headstone  which 
had  been  erected,  as  I  knew,  at  his  expense.  He  had 
asked  me  to  write  the  inscription  for  it,  and  I  had  done  so. 

Coming  home,  he  had  to  stop  several  times  on  the  hill 
to  take  breath.  When  we  got  to  the  door  he  said :  "  I 
have  but  one  thing  to  pray  for  now,  Dr.  McQuhirr,  and 
that  is  that  L  may  outlive  my  mother.  Give  me  your 
best  skill  and  help  me  to  do  that." 

His  prayer  was  answered.  He  lived  just  two  days 
after  his  mother.  And  I  was  with,  him  most  of  the 
time,  while  Nance  stayed  with  my  people  at  Drumquhat. 
It  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath  evening,  and  the  kirk  folk 
were  just  coming  home.  Most  who  suffer  from  his  par- 
ticular form  of  phthisis  imagine  themselves  to  be  getting 
better  to  the  very  last,  but  he  knew  too  much  to  have 
any  illusions.  I  had  put  the  pillows  behind  him,  and  he 
was  sitting  up  making  kindly  comment  on  the  people  ;i^ 
they  passed  by,  Bible  in  hand.  He  stopped  suddenly 
and  looked  at  me. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  "  what  my  uncle  told  you  about  me 
never  made  any  difference  to  you  ?  " 


150  THE   BLUE  EYES   OE  AILIE 

"  No,"  I  said,  rather  shamefacedly,  "  no  difference  at 
all!" 

"No,"  he  went  on,  meditatively,  "no  difference. 
Well,  I  want  yon  to  burn  two  documents  for  me,  lest 
they  fall  into  the  wrong  hands  —  as  they  might  before 
these  good  folk  go  back  kirkward  again." 

He  directed  me  with  his  finger,  at  the  same  time 
handing  me  a  key  he  wore  upon  his  watchchain. 

"  Even  my  poor  mother  up  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  room  above,  "  has  never  set  eyes  on  what  I  am  going 
to  show  you.  It  is  weak  of  me;  I  ought  not  to  do  it, 
doctor,  but  I  will  not  deny  that  it  is  some  comfort  to 
set  myself  right  with  one  human  soul  before  I  go." 

I  took  out  of  a  little  drawer  in  a  bureau  a  miniature,  a 
bundle  of  letters,  and  a  broadl.y  folded  legal-looking 
document. 

I  offered  them  to  Roger,  but  he  waved  them  away. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  look  upon  them  —  they  are  hero  !  " 
He  touched  his  forehead.  "  And  one  of  them  is  here  !  " 
He  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart  with  that  freedom  of 
gesture  which  often  comes  to  the  dying,  especially  to 
those  who  have  repressed  themselves  all  their  lives. 

I  looked  down  at  the  miniature  and  saw  the  picture  of 
a  girl,  very  pretty,  beautiful  indeed,  but  with  that  width 
between  the  eyes  which,  in  fair  women,  gives  a  double 
look. 

"  Ailie,  my  brother's  wife !  "  he  said,  in  answer  to  my 
glance.  "  These  are  her  letters.  Open  them  one  by  one 
and  burn  them." 

I  did  as  he  bade  me,  throwing  my  eyes  out  of  focus 
so  that  I  might  not  read  a  word.  But  out  of  one  fluttered 
a  pressed  flower.     It  was  fixed  on  a  card  with  a  little 


THE   BLU1-:    EYES   OF   AILEE  Lf  J 

lock  of  yellow  hair  arranged  about  it  for  a  frame,  fresh 
ami  crisp.  And  as  I  picked  it  up  I  could  not  help  catch- 
ing the  prettily  printed  won  Is  : 

"TO   DARLING  ROGER,  FROM   HIS  OWN  AILIE." 

There  was  also  a  date. 

"  Let  me  look  at  that ! "  he  said  quickly.  I  gave  it  to 
him.  He  looked  at  the  flower  —  a  quick  painful  glance, 
but  as  he  handed  me  back  the  card  he  laughed  a  little. 

"  It  is  a  '  Forget-me-not,' "  he  said.  Then  in  a  musing 
tone  he  added  :  "  Well,  Ailie,  I  never  have  I " 

So  one  by  one  the  letters  were  burnt  up,  till  only  a 
black  pile  of  ashes  remained,  in  ludicrous  contrast  to  the 
closely  packed  bundle  I  had  taken  from  the  drawer. 

"  Now  burn  the  ribbon  that  kept  them  together,  and 
look  at  the  other  paper." 

I  unfolded  it.  It  was  a  will  in  holograph,  the  char- 
acters clear  and  strong,  signed  by  Archibald  Ruthven 
Campbell,  of  Inchtaggart,  Argyleshire,  devising  all  his 
estate  and  property  to  his  son  Roger,  with  only  a  bequest 
in  money  to  his  elder  son  ! 

I  was  dazed  as  I  looked  through  it,  and  my  lips 
framed  a  question.     The  young  man  smiled. 

"  My  father's  last  will,"  he  said,  "  dated  a  month  before 
his  death.  She  never  knew  it."  (Again  he  indicated 
the  upper  room  where  his  mother's  body  lay.)  "  'TJiey 
never  knew  it."  (He  looked  at  the  girl's  picture  as  it 
smiled  up  from  the  table  where  I  had  laid  it.)  "  My 
brother  Archie  succeeded  on  a  will  older  by  twenty  years. 
But  when  I  lost  Ailie,  I  lost  all.  Why  should  she  marry 
a  failure?  Besides,  I  truly  believe  that  she  loves  my 
brother,  at  least  as  well  as  ever  she  loved  me.     It  is  her 


152  THE    BLUE   EYES   OF   AIL  IE 

nature.  That  she  is  infinitely  happier  with  him,  I 
know." 

"  Then  you  were  the  heir  all  the  time  and  never  told 
it  —  not  to  auy  one!"  J  cried,  getting  up  on  my  feet. 
He  motioned  me  towards  the  grate  again. 

"  Burn  it,"  he  said,  "  I  have  had  a  moment  of  weakness. 
It  is  over.  I  ought  to  have  been  consistent  and  not  told 
even  you.  No,  let  the  picture  lie.  I  think  it  does  me 
good.  God  bless  you,  Alec !  Now,  good-night ;  go  home 
to  your  Nance." 

He  died  the  next  forenoon  while  I  was  still  on  my 
rounds.  And  when  I  went  in  to  look  at  him,  the  pic- 
ture had  disappeared.  I  questioned  the  old  crone  who 
had  watched  his  last  moments  and  afterwards  prepared 
him  for  burial. 

"  He  had  something  in  his  hand,"  she  answered,  "  but 
I  couldna  steer  it.  His  fingers  grippit  it  like  a  smith's 
vice." 

I  looked,  and  there  from  between  the  clenched  fingers 
of  the  dead  right  hand  the  eyes  of  Ailie  Campbell  smiled 
out  at  me  —  blue  and  false  as  her  own  Forget-me-not. 


LOWE'S    SKAT 

Elspeth  did  not  mean  to  go  to  Lowe's  Seat.  She  had 
indeed  no  business  there.  For  she  was  the  minister's 
daughter,  and  at  this  time  of  the  day  ought  ive  been 

visiting  the  old  wives  in  the  white-washed  "Clachan"  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  showing  them  how  to  render 
their  patchwork  quilts  less  hideous,  compassionating 
them  on  their  sons'  ungrateful  silence  (letters  arrive  so 
seldom  from  the  "  States ").  Yet  here  was  Elspeth 
Stuart  under  the  waving  boughs,  seated  upon  the  soft 
grassy  turf,  and  employed  in  nothing  more  utilitarian 
than  picking  a  gowan  asunder  petal  by  petal.  It  was 
the  middle  of  an  August  afternoon,  and  as  hot  as  it  ever 
is  in  Scotland. 

Why  then  had  Elspeth  gone  to  Lowe's  Seat?  It 
seemed  a  mystery.  It  was  to  the  full  as  pleasant  on  the 
side  of  the  river  where  dwelt  her  father,  where  com- 
plained her  maiden  aunt,  and  where  after  their  kind 
racketed  and  stormed  her  roving  vagabond  bird-nesting 
brothers.  On  the  Picts'  Mound  beside  the  kirk  (an 
ancient  Moothill,  so  they  say,  upon  which  justice  of  the 
rudest  and  readiest  was  of  old  dispensed)  there  were 
trees  and  green  depths  of  shade.  She  might  haw  stayed 
and  read  there  —  the  "  Antiquary  "  perhaps,  or  "  Joseph 
Andrews,"  or  her  first  favourite  "Emma,"  all  through 
the  long  sweet  drowsing  summer's  afternoon.     But  some- 


154  LOWE'S   SEAT 

how  up  at  Lowe's  Seat,  the  leaves  of  the  wood  laughed 
to  a  different  tune  and  the  Airds  woods  were  dearer  than 
all  sweet  Kenside. 

So  in  spite  of  all  Elspeth  Stuart  had  crossed  in  her 
father's  own  skiff,  which  he  used  for  his  longer  ministe- 
rial excursions  "  up  the  water,"  and  her  brothers  Erank 
and  Sandy  for  perch-fishing  and  laying  their  "ged" 
lines.  There  was  indeed  a  certain  puddock  in  a  high 
state  of  decomposition  in  a  locker  which  sadly  troubled 
Elspeth  as  she  bent  to  the  oars.  And  now  she  was  at 
Lowe's  Seat. 

It  is  strange  to  what  the  love  of  poetry  will  drive  a 
girl.  Elspeth  tossed  back  the  fair  curls  which  a  light 
wind  persisted  in  flicking  ticklingly  over  her  brow. 
With  a  coquettish,  blushful,  half-indignant  gesture  she 
thrust  them  back  with  her  hand,  as  if  they  ought  to  have 
known  better  than  to  intrude  upon  a  purpose  so  serious 
as  hers  in  coming  to  Lowe's  Seat. 

"Here  was  the  place,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  ex- 
planatorily, "  where  the  poor  boy  hid  himself  to  write 
his  poem — a  hundred  years  ago.  Was  it  really  a  hun- 
dred years  ago  ?  " 

She  looked  about  her,  and  the  wind  whispered  and 
rustled  and  laughed  a  little  down  among  the  elms  and 
the  hazels,  while  out  towards  the  river  and  on  a  level 
with  her  face  the  silver  birches  shook  their  plumes 
daintily  as  a  pretty  girl  her  wandering  tresses,  bend- 
ing saucily  towards  the  water  as  they  did  so.  Then 
Elspeth  said  the  first  two  verses  of  "  Mary's  Dream  "  over 
to  herself.  The  poem  was  a  favourite  with  her  father, 
a  hard  stern  man  with  a  sentimental  base,  as  is  indeed 
very  common  in  Scotland. 


LOWE'S   SEAT  155 

"The  moon  hail  climbed  the  highest  hill 
That  rises  o'er  the  source  of  I>ee, 
And  from  the  eastern  summit  shed 
Her  silver  light  on  tower  and  tree. 

"When  Mary  laid  her  down  to  sleep, 

Her  thoughts  on  Sandy  far  at  soa, 
There  soft  and  low  a  voice  was  heard, 

Saying,  '  Mary,  weep  no  more  forme!'" 

Elspeth  was  young  and  she  was  not  critical.  Lowe's 
simple  and  to  tlie  modern  mind  somewrhat  obvious  verse 
seemed  to  her  to  contain  the  essence  of  truth  and  feeling. 
But  on  the  other  hand  she  looked  adorable  as  she  said 
them.  For,  strangely  enough,  a  woman's  critical  judg- 
ment is  generally  in  inverse  ratio  to  her  personal  attrac- 
tions —  though  doubtless  there  are  exceptions  to  the 
rule. 

As  has  been  said,  she  did  not  go  to  Lowe's  Seat  for  any 
particular  purpose.  She  said  so  to  herself  as  many  as 
ten  times  while  she  -was  crossing  in  the  skiff,  and  at  least 
as  often  when  she  "was  pulling  herself  up  the  steep  brae- 
face  by  the  supple  hazels  and  more  stubborn  young  oaks. 

So  Elspeth  Stuart  continued  to  hum  a  vagrant  tune, 
more  than  half  of  the  bars  wholly  silent,  and  the  rest 
sometimes  loud  and  sometimes  soft,  as  she  glanced 
downwards  out  of  her  green  garret  high  among  the  leaves 

More  than  once  she  grew  restive  and  pattered  impa- 
tiently with  her  fingers  on  her  lap  as  if  expecting  some 
one  wrho  did  not  come.  Only  occasionally  she  looked 
down  towards  the  river.  Indeed,  she  permitted  her  eyes 
to  rove  in  every  direction  except  immediately  beneath 
her,  where  through  a  mist  of  leaves  she  could  see  the 
Dee  kissing  murmuringly  the  rushes  on  its  marge. 


156  LOWE'S   SEAT 

A  pretty  girl  —  yes,  surely.  More  than  that,  one  win- 
some with  the  wilful  brightness  which  takes  men  more 
than  beauty.  And  being  withal  only  twenty  years  of  her 
age,  it  may  well  be  believed  that  Elspeth  Stuart,  the  only 
daughter  of  the  parish  minister  of  Dullarg,  did  not  move 
far  without  drawing  the  glances  of  men  after  her  as  a 
magnet  attracts  steel  filings. 

Yet  a  second  marvel  appeared  beneath.  There  was  a 
young  man  moving  along  by  the  water's  edge  and  he  did 
not  look  up.  To  all  appearance  Lowe's  Seat  might  just 
as  well  not  have  existed  for  him,  and  its  pretty  occupant 
might  have  been  reading  Miss  Austen  under  the  pines 
of  the  Kirk  Knowe  on  the  opposite  side  of  Dee  Water. 

Elspeth  also  appeared  equally  unconscious.  Of  course, 
how  otherwise  ?  She  had  plucked  a  spray  of  bracken 
and  was  peeling  away  the  fronds,  unravelling  the  tough 
fibres  of  the  root  and  rubbing  off  the  underleaf  seeds, 
so  that  they  showed  red  on  her  fingers  like  iron  rust. 
Wondrous  busy  had  our  maid  become  all  suddenly.  But 
though  she  had  not  smiled  when  the  youth  came  in  sight, 
she  pouted  when  he  made  as  if  he  would  pass  by  without 
seeing  her.  Which  is  a  strange  thing  when  you  come  to 
think  of  it,  considering  that  she  herself  had  apparently 
not  observed  him. 

Suddenly,  however,  she  sang  out  loudly,  a  strong  ring- 
ing stave  like  a  blackbird  from  the  copse  as  the  sun  rises 
above  the  hills.  Whereat  the  young  man  started  as  if 
he  bad  been  shot.  Hitherto  he  had  held  a  fishing-rod 
in  his  hand  and  seemed  intent  only  on  the  stream.  But 
at  the  sound  of  Elspeth's  voice  he  whirled  about,  and 
catching  a  glimpse  of  bright  apparel  through  the  green 
leaves,  he  eame  straight  up  through  the  tangle  with  the 


LOWE'S   SEAT  107 

rod  in  his  hand.     Even  at  that  momenl  it  did  nol  '■■-'•ape 
Elspeth  il  lie  held  it  awkwardly,  like  one  111 

used  to  Galloway  burn-sides.     She  meant  to  show  him 
better  by-and-by. 

Having  arrived,  the  surprise  and  mutual  courtesies 
were  simply  overpowering.  Elspeth  had  not  dreamed  — 
the  merest  impulse  had  led  her  —  she  had  been  reading 
Lowe's  poem  the  night  before,  it  was  really  the  only 
completely  sheltered  place  for  miles,  where  one  could 
in  Ms.'  in  peace.     He  knew  it  was,  did  he  not? 

But  we  must  introduce  this  young  man.  If  he  had 
possessed  a  card  it  would  have  said:  "The  Rev.  Allan 
Synie,  B.A." 

He  was  the  new  minister  of  the  Cameronian  Kirk 
at  Cairn  Edward.  He  had  just  been  "called,"  chiefly 
because  the  other  two  on  the  short  leet  had  not  been  con- 
sidered sufficiently  "firm"  in  their  views  concerning  an 
"  Erastian  Establishment,"  as  at  the  Kirk  on  the  Hill 
they  called  the  Church  of  Scotland  nationally  provided 
for  by  the  Revolution  Settlement. 

In  his  trial  discourses,  however,  Mr.  Syme  had  proved 
categorically  that  no  good  had  ever  come  out  of  any 
state-supported  Church,  that  the  ministers  of  the  present 
establishment  were  little  better  than  priests  of  the  Scar- 
let Woman  who  sitteth  on  the  Seven  Hills,  and  that  all 
those  who  trusted  in  them  were  even  as  the  moles  and 
the  bats,  children  of  darkness  and  travellers  on  the 
smoothly  macadamised  highway  to  destruction. 

Nevertheless,  at  that  free  stave  of  Elspeth's  carol  Allan 
Syme  went  up  hill  as  fast  as  if  he  had  never  preached 
a  sermon  on  the  text,  "And  Elijah  girded  up  his  loins 
and  ran  before  Ahab  unto  the  entering  in  of  Jezreel." 


158  LOWE'S   SEAT 

At  half-past  eleven  by  the  clock  the  minister  of  the 
Cameronian  Kirk  sat  down  beside  this  daughter  of  an 
Erastian  Establishment. 

Have  you  heard  the  leaves  of  beech  and  birch  laugh 
as  they  clash  and  rustle  ?  That  is  how  the  wicked 
summer  woods  of  Airds  laughed  that  day  about  Lowe's 
Seat. 

Half  a  mile  down  the  river  there  is  a  ferry-boat  which 
at  infrequent  intervals  pushes  a  flat  duck's  bill  across 
Dee  Water.  It  is  wide  enough  to  take  a  loaded  cart  of 
hay,  and  long  enough  to  accommodate  two  young  horses 
tail  to  tail  and  yet  leave  room  for  the  statutory  flourish- 
ing of  heels. 

Bess  MacTaggart  could  take  it  across  with  any  load 
upon  it  you  pleased,  pushing  easily  upon  an  iron  lever. 
They  use  a  wheel  now,  but  it  was  much  prettier  in  the 
old  days  when  all  for  a  penny  you  could  watch  Bess  lift 
the  toothed  lever  with  a  sharp  movement  of  her  shapely 
arm,  wet  and  dripping  from  the  chain,  as  it  slowly 
dredged  itself  up  from  the  river  bed. 

It  was  half-past  four  when,  in  reply  to  repeated  hails, 
the  boat  left  the  Dullarg  shore  with  a  company  of  three 
men  on  board,  and  in  addition  the  sort  of  person  who  is 
called  a  "  single  lady." 

Two  of  the  men  stood  together  at  one  end  of  the  ferry- 
boat, and  after  Bess  had  bidden  one  of  them  sharply  to 
"  get  out  of  her  road,"  she  called  him  "  Drows  "  to  make 
it  up,  and  asked  him  if  he  were  going  over  to  the  lamb 
sale  at  Nether  Airds. 

"  If  it's  the  Lord's  wull ! "  Drows  replied,  with 
solemnity. 


LOWE'S   SEAT  159 

Both  ho  and  his  companion  had  commodious,  clean- 
shaven "horse"  faces,  with  an  abundance  of  gray  hair 
standing  ont  in  a  straggling  semicircular  aureole  under- 
neath the  chin.      Cameronian  was  stamped  upon  their 
faces  with  broad  Btrong  simplicity.     The  blue  bonnet, 
already  looking  old-world  among  the  universal   ••  felts" 
common  to  most  adult  manhood  —  the  deep  serious  eyes, 
as   it  were   withdrawn  under  the  penthouse   of   bit 
brows,  and  looking  upon  all  things  (even  lamb  sales) 
fleeting   and   transitory — the   long   upper   lip   and  the 
mouth   tightly   compressed  —  these    marked    out    John 
Allanson  of  Drows  and  Matthew  Garment  of  Craigs 
pillars  of  that  Kirk  which  alone  of   all  the  fragments 
of  Presbytery  is  senior   to  the  Established  Church  of 
Scotland. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  boat  and  somewhat  apart 
stood  Dr.  Murdo  Stuart,  gazing  gloomily  at  the  black 
water  as  it  rippled  and  clappered  under  the  broad  lip  of 
the  ferry-boat.  A  proud  man,  a  Highland  gentleman  of 
old  family,  was  the  minister  of  Dullarg.  He  kept  his 
head  erect,  and  for  any  notice  he  had  taken  of  the 
Cameronian  elders,  they  might  just  as  well  not  have 
been  on  the  boat  at  all.  And  in  their  turn  the  elders  of 
the  Cameronian  Kirk  compressed  their  lips  more  firmly 
and  their  eyes  seemed  deeper  set  in  their  heads  when 
their  glances  fell  on  this  pillar  of  Erastianism.  For 
nowhere  is  the  racial  antipathy  of  north  and  south  so 
strong  as  in  Galloway.  There,  and  there  alone,  the 
memory  of  the  Highland  Host  has  never  died  out,  and 
every  autumn  when  the  hills  glow  red  with  heatherfrom 
horizon  to  horizon  verge,  the  story  is  told  to  Galloway 
childhood  of  how  Lag  and  Clavers  wasted  the  heritage 


160  LOWE'S   SEAT 

of  the  Lord,  and  how  from  Ailsa  to  Sol  way  all  the  west 
of  Scotland  is  H  flowered  with  the  blood  of  the  Martyrs." 

The  thin  nervous  woman  kept  close  to  the  minister's 
elbow. 

"I  tell  you  I  saw  her  cross  the  water,  Murdo,"  she 
was  saying  as  Dr.  Stuart  looked  ahead,  scanning  keenly 
the  low  sandy  shores  they  were  nearing. 

"  The  boat  is  gone  and  she  has  not  returned.  It  is  a 
thing  not  proper  for  a  young  lady  and  a  minister's 
daughter  to  be  so  long  absent  from  home ! " 

"My  daughter  has  been  too  well  brought  up  to  do 
aught  that  is  improper ! "  said  Dr.  Stuart,  with  grave 
sententious  dignity.  "  You  need  not  pursue  the  subject, 
Mary  !  " 

There  was  just  enough  likeness  between  them  to 
stamp  the  pair  as  brother  and  sister.  As  the  boat 
touched  the  edge  of  the  sharply  sloping  shingle  bank, 
the  hinged  gang-plank  tilted  itself  up  at  a  new  angle. 
The  passengers  paid  their  pennies  to  Bess  MacTaggart 
and  stepped  sedately  on  shore.  The  boat-house  stands 
in  a  water-girt  peninsula,  the  Ken  being  on  one  side 
broad  and  quiet,  the  Black  Water  on  the  other,  sulky 
and  turbulent.  So  that  for  half  a  mile  there  was  but 
one  road  for  this  curiously  assorted  pair  of  pairs. 

And  as  they  approached  them  the  woods  of  Airds 
laughed  even  more  mockingly,  with  a  ripple  of  tossing 
birch  plumes  like  a  woman  when  she  is  merry  in  the 
night  and  dares  not  laugh  aloud.  And  the  beeches 
responded  with  a  dryish  cackle  that  had  something  of 
irony  in  it.  Listen  and  you  will  hear  how  it  was  the 
next  time  a  beech-tree  shakes  out  his  leaves  to  dry  the 
dew  off  them. 


I.nWK'S    Si:.\""  I'.l 

The  two  elders  came   to  a  quick   turn   of   the  road- 
There  was  a  stile 'just   beyond.     A   momenl    bel 
young  man  had  overleaped  it,  and  aow  he  wi  ing 

up  his  hands  encouragingly  t.<>  a  girl  who  down 

upon  him  from  above.  It.  mis  a  difficult  stile.  The 
dyke  top  was  shaky.  Two  of  the  bottom  steps  were 
missing  altogether.  All  who  have  once  been  young 
know  the  kind  of  stile  —  verily,  a  place  of  infinite  dan- 
ger to  the  unwary. 

So  at  least  thought  Elspeth  Stuart,  as  for  a  long 
moment  she  stood  daintying  her  skirts  about  her  ankles 
on  the  perilous  copestone,  and  drawing  her  breath  a 
little  short  at  the  sight  of  the  steep  descent  into  the 
road. 

The  elders  also  stood  still,  and  behind  them  the  other 
pair  came  slowly  up.  And  surelj  some  wicked  trick- 
some  Puck  laughed  unseen  among  the  beech  leaves. 

Elspeth  Stuart  had  taken  the  young  man's  hand  now, 
He  was  lifting  her  down.  There  —  it  was  dene  And 
—  yes,  you  are  right  —  something  else  happened  —  just 
what  would  have  happened  to  you  and  me,  twenty. 
thirty,  or  is  it  forty  years  ago  ? 

Then  with  a  clash  and  a  rustle  the  beeches  told  the 
tale  to  the  birches  overall  the  wooded  slopes  of  the  hill 
of  Airds. 

****** 

"Elspeth!" 

"  Elspeth  Stuart ! " 

"  Maister  Syme  I " 

The  names  came  from  four  pairs  of  horrified  lips  as 
the  parties  to  the  above  mentioned  transaction  fell 
swiftly  asunder,  with  sudden   stricken  horror    on  their 


162  LOWE'S   SEAT 

faces.  The  first  cry  came  shrill  and  keen,  and  was 
accompanied  by  an  out-throwing  of  feminine  hands. 
The  second  fell  sternly  from  the  mouth  of  one  who  was 
at  once  a  parent  and  a  minister  of  the  Establishment 
outraged  in  his  tenderest  feelings.  But  indubitably  the 
elders  had  it.  For  one  thing,  they  were  two  to  one,  and 
as  they  said  for  the  second  time  with  yet  deeper  gravity 
"  Maister  Syme  !"  it  appeared  at  once  that  they,  and 
only  they,  were  able  adequately  to  deal  with  the  un- 
precedented situation.  But  the  others  did  what  they 
could. 

Mistress  Mary  Stuart,  the  minister's  maiden  sister, 
flew  forward  with  an  eager  cry,  the  "scraich"  of  a 
desperate  hen  when  she  is  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
fence  and  sees  the  "  daich  "  disappearing  down  a  hundred 
hungry  throats. 

She  clutched  her  niece  by  the  arm. 

"  Come  away  this  moment ! "  she  cried.  "  Do  you  know 
who  this  young  man  is  ?  " 

But  Elspeth  did  not  answer.  She  was  looking  at  her 
father,  Dr.  Stuart,  whose  eyes  were  bent  upon  the 
young  man.  Very  stern  they  were,  the  fierce  sudden 
darkness  of  Celtic  anger  in  them.  But  the  young 
Cameronian  minister  knew  that  he  had  far  worse  to 
face  than  that,  and  met  the  frown  of  paternal  severity 
with  shame  indeed  mantling  on  his  cheek  and  neck,  but 
yet  with  a  certain  quiet  of  determination  firming  his 
heart  within  him. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  that  of  which  you  have  been  witness 
was  no  more  than  an  accident — the  fault  of  impulse 
and  young  blood.  But  I  own  I  was  carried  away.  I 
ask  the  young  lady's  pardon  and  yours.     I  should  have 


LOWE'S   SEAT  163 

spoken  to  you  first,  but  now  I  wall  delay  no  longer.     Sir, 
I  love  your  daughter  !  *' 

Then  came  for  the  fin  t  time  a  slight  smile  upon  the  pale 
face  of  his  fellow-culprit.     She  said  in  her  heart,  "Ah, 
Mian,  if  ye  had  spoken  first  to  my  father,  feint  a  kiss 
would  ye  ever  have  gotten  from  Elspeth  Stuart !  " 

But  at  the  manful  words  of  the  young  Cameronian 
the  face  of  her  father  grew  only  the  more  stern,  the  two 
elders  watching  and  biding  their  time  by  the  roadside. 

They  knew  that  it  would  come  before  long. 

At  last  after  a  long  silence  Dr.  Stuart  spoke. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  grimly,  "  I  do  not  bandy  words  with  a 
stranger  upon  the  public  highway.  I  myself  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you.  I  forbid  you  ever  again  to 
speak  to  my  daughter.     Elspeth,  follow  me  !  " 

And  with  no  more  than  this  he  turned  and  stalked 
away.  But  his  daughter  also  had  the  high  Highland 
blood  in  her  veins.  She  shook  off  with  one  large  motion 
of  her  arm  the  stringy  clutch  of  her  aunt's  fingers. 

"  Heed  you  net,  Allan,"  she  said,  speaking  very 
clearly,  so  that  all  might  hear;  "when  ye  want  her, 
Elspeth  Stuart  will  come  the  long  road  and  the  straight 
road  to  speak  a  word  with  you." 

It  was  a  bold  avowal  to  make,  and  a  moment  before 
the  girl  had  not  meant  to  say  anything  of  the  kind.  But 
they  had  taken  the  wrong  way  with  her. 

"  Oh,  unmaidenly  —  most  unmaidenly  !  "  cried  her 
aunt,  "  come  away  —  ye  are  mad  this  day,  Elspeth  Stuart 
—  he  has  but  a  hunder  a  year  of  stipend,  and  may  lose 
that  ony  day  ! " 

But  Elspeth  did  not  answer.  She  was  holding  out  her 
hand  to  Allan  Syme.     He  bent  quickly  and  kissed  it. 


164  LOWE'S   SEAT 

This  young  man  had  had  a  mother  who  taught  him  gra- 
cious ways,  not  at  all  in  keeping  with  the  staid  manners 
of  a  son  of  the  covenants. 

****** 

"  And  now,  sir,"  said  John  Allanson  of  Drows,  turning 
grimly  upon  his  minister,  who  stood  watching  Elspeth's 
girlish  figure  disappear  round  the  curve  of  the  green- 
edged  track,  "  what  have  you  to  say  to  us  ?  " 

Then  Allan  Syme's  pulses  leaped  quick  and  light,  for 
he  knew  that  of  a  surety  the  time  of  his  visitation  was 
at  hand.  Yet  his  heart  did  not  fail  within  him.  At  the 
last  it  was  glad  and  high.  "  For  after  all "  (he  smiled 
as  he  thought  it),  "after  all  —  well,  they  cannot  take 
that  from  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  Matthew  Carment,  in  a  louder  tone,  "  heard 
ye  the  quastion  that  your  ruling  elder  hath  pitten  till 

ye?" 

"  John  and  Matthew,"  said  the  young  man,  gently,  "  ye 
are  my  elders,  and  I  will  not  answer  you  as  I  did  Dr. 
Stuart." 

"  The  priest  of  Midian  !  "  said  Matthew  Carment. 

"  The  fors wearer  of  covenants  !  "  said  John  Allan- 
son. 

"  But  I  will  speak  with  j^ou  as  those  who  have  been 
unto  me  as  Aaron  and  Hur  for  the  upholding  cf  mine 
hands " 

"  Say,  rather,"  said  John  Allanson,  sternly,  "  as  Phin- 
eas  the  son  of  Eleazar,  the  son  of  Aaron,  the  priest  who 
thrust  through  the  Midianitish  woman  in  sight  of  all 
the  congregation  of  Israel,  as  they  stood  weeping  before 
the  door  of  the  tabernacle !  " 

"  So    the    plague    was    stayed   from  the   children  of 


LOWE'S    SEAT  L65 

Israel/'  quoted   Matthew  Caxment,  gi  ,  nnishii 

friend's  sentem 

Allan  Syme  winced.  The  words  had  been  his  Sun- 
day's text. 

"I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  he  said  quickly,  "since 
God  gave  Eve  to  Adam  then-  has  doI  been  on  earth 
a  sweeter,  truer  maid  than  this.  You  have  heard  me 
declare  my  love  for  her.  Well,  I  love  her  more  than  I 
dare  trust  my  tongue  to  utter!  " 

"  And  how  about  your  love  for  the  Covenants?  And 
for  the  Faithful  uemnanl  of  the  persecuted  Kirk  of  the 
Martyrs?"  Baid  Drows,  with  a  certain  dreary  persist- 
ence that  wore  on  Allan  Syme  like  prolonged  tooth- 
ache. 

Then  Matthew  Garment,  who,  though  slower  than  the 
ruling  elder,  was  not  less  sure,  gave  in  his  contribu- 
tion. 

"'Like  unto  Eve,'  said  ye?      A  true  word — verily, 
a  most  true  word !     For  did  not  we  with  our  own  e 
see  ye  with  her  partake  of  the  forbidden   fruit?     But 
there  is  a  difference  —  your  eyes,  young  man,  have  not 
yet  been  opened  !  " 

Allan  Syme  began  to  grow  angry. 

"I  am  a  free  agent,"  he  said  fiercely.  "I  am  not  a 
child  under  bonds.  You  are  not  my  tutors  and  gov- 
ernors by  any  law,  human  or  divine.  Nor  am  I  answer- 
able to  you  whom  I  shall  woo,  or  whom  I  shall  wed !  *' 

"  Ye  are  answerable  to  God  and  the  Kirk !  "  cried  the 
two  with  one  voice. 

And  to  this  Matthew  Garment  again  added  his  say. 
The  three  were  now  walking  slowly  in  the  direction  of 
the  lamb  sale. 


166  LOWE'S   SEAT 

"  Sir,  I  mind  how  ye  well  described  the  so-called  min- 
isters of  the  establishment  —  'locusts  on  the  face  of 
our  land/  these  were  your  words,  '  instruments  of  ineffi- 
ciency, the  plague  spot  upon  the  nation,  the  very  scorn  of 
Eef ormation,  and  a  scandal  to  Religion  ! '  Ye  said  well, 
minister ;  and  the  spawn  of  Belial  is  like  unto  Belial ! " 

Allan  Syme  was  now  angry  exceedingly. 

"God  be  my  judge,"  he  cried,  "she  whom  I  love  is 
more  Christian  than  the  whole  pack  of  you.  Never  has 
she  spoken  an  ill  word  of  any,  ever  since  I  have  known 
her ! " 

"  And  wherefore  should  she  ?  "  said  John  Allanson  of 
Drows,  as  dispassionately  as  a  clerk  reading  an  indict- 
ment. "  Hath  she  not  been  clothed  in  fine  linen  and 
fared  sumptuously  every  day  ?  Hath  she  not  eaten  of 
the  fine  flour  and  the  honey  and  the  oil  ?  Hath  she  not 
been  adorned  with  broidered  work  and  shod  with  badger 
skin,  and,  even  as  her  sisters  Aholah  and  Aholibah  of 
old,  hath  not  power  been  given  unco  her  to  lead  even  the 
hearts  of  the  elect  captive  ?  " 

Then  Allan  Syme  broke  forth  furiously. 

"  Your  tongues  are  evil ! "  he  said,  "  ye  are  not  fit  to 
take  her  name  on  your  lips.  She  is  to  me  as  the  mother 
of  our  Lord  —  yes,  as  Mary,  the  wife  of  Joseph  the 
carpenter !  " 

"  And  indeed  I  never  thocht  sae  muckle  o'  that  yin 
either,"  said  Matthew  of  Craigs,  —  "  the  Papishes  make 
ower  great  a  to-do  about  her  for  my  liking  !  " 

"Matthew  Carment  and  John  Allanson,  I  bid  you 
hearken  to  me,"  cried  the  young  minister. 

"  Aye,  Allan  Syme,  we  will  hearken ! "  they  answered, 
fronting  him  eye  to  eye. 


LOWE'S   SEAT  107 

"  God  judge  between  you  ami  me,"  lie  said,  "He  hath 
said  that  for  this  cause  shall  a  man  leave  father  and 
mother,  and  cleave  unto  his  wile.  Nov,-,  I  know  well 
that  if  ye  like,  you  two  can  take  from  me  my  kirk  and 
all  my  living.  But  I  have  spoken,  and  I  will  adhere.  I 
have  promised,  and  1  will  keen.  Take  this  my  pari 
message.  Do  your  duty  as  it  is  revealed  to  you.  I  will 
go  forth  freely  and  willingly.  Naked  I  came  among 
you  —  naked  will  I  go.  The  hearts  of  my  people  are 
dearer  to  me  than  life.  Ye  can  twine  them  from  mo  if 
you  will.  Ye  can  out  me  from  my  kirk,  send  me  forth 
of  my  manse  —  cast  me  upon  the  world  as  a  man  dis- 
graced. But,  as  I  am  a  sinner  answerable  to  God,  there 
are  two  things  you  cannot  do,  ye  cannot  make  me  break 
my  plighted  word  nor  make  me  other  than  proud  of  the 
love  I  have  won  from  God's  fairest  creature  upon  earth." 

And  with  these  words  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode 
straight  up  hill  away  from  them  in  the  direction  of  his 
distant  home. 

The  two  men  stood  looking  after  him.  Drows  stroked 
his  shaggy  fringe  of  beard.  Matthew  Garment  put  his 
hand  to  his  eyes  and  gazed  under  it  as  if  he  had  been 
looking  into  the  sunset.  There  was  a  long  silence.  At 
last  the  two  turned  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Weel,  what  think  ye  ?  "  said  Drows,  ruling  elder  and 
natural  leader  in  debate. 

There  was  a  still  longer  pause,  for  Matthew  Carment 
was  a  man  slow  by  nature  and  slower  by  habit. 

"  He's  a  fine  lad !  "  he  said  at  last. 

Drows  broke  a  twig  elaborately  from  the  hedge  and 
chewed  the  ends. 

"So  I  was  thinkin'  !  "  he  answered. 


168  LOWE'S   SEAT 

"  I  had  it  in  my  mind  at  the  time  he  was  speakin'," 
began  Matthew,  and  then  hesitated. 

"  Aye,  what  was  in  your  mind  ?  " 

"  I  was  thin  kin'  on  the  days  when  I  courted  Jean ! " 

"  Aye,  man !  " 

There  was  another  long  silence. 

It  was  Drows  who  broke  it  this  time,  and  he  said: 
"  I  —  I  was  thinkin'  too,  Mathy !  Aye,  man,  I  was 
think  in' ! " 

"  Aboot  Marget  ?  "  queried  Matthew  Carment. 

"  Na,  no  aboot  Marget ! " 

They  were  silent  again.  The  ruling  elder  settled  to 
another  green  sprig  of  hedge-thorn.  It  seemed  palata- 
ble.    He  got  on  well  with  it. 

"Man,"  he  said  at  last,  "  do  ye  ken,  Mathy  —  when  he 
turned  on  us  like  yon,  I  was  kind  o'  prood  o'  him.  My 
heart  burned  within  me.  It  was  maybe  no  verra  like  a 
minister  o'  the  Kirk.  But,  ch  man,  it  was  awesome 
human  ! " 

"Then  I  judge  we'll  say  nae  mair  aboot  it!"  said 
Matthew  Carment,  turning  towards  the  farm  where  the 
lamb  sale  was  by  this  time  well  under  way.  "Hoo 
mony  are  ye  thinkin'  o'  biddin'  for  the  day,  Drows  ?  " 


THE    SUIT   OF    BOTTLE   GREEN 

At  the  Manse  of  Dullari;  things  did  not  go  over  well. 
Dr.  Stuart,  being  by  nature  a  quick,  passionate,  ami 
imperious  Celt,  had  first  of  all  ordered  his  daughter  to 
promise  never  again  to  hold  any  communication  with  the 
young  Cameronian  minister  of  Cairn  Edward.  It  was 
thus  that  he  himself  had  been  taught  to  understand 
family  discipline.  He  was  the  head  of  the  clan,  as  his 
father  had  been  before  him.  He  claimed  to  be  Provi- 
dence to  all  within  his  gates.  His  hand  of  correction 
was  not  withheld  from  his  boys,  Frank  and  Sandy,  until 
the  day  they  ran  away  from  home  to  escape  him.  He 
could  not  well  adapt  this  plan  to  the  present  case,  but 
when  Elspeth  refused  point  blank  to  give  any  promise, 
her  father  promptly  convoyed  his  daughter  to  her  own 
room  and  locked  her  up  there.  She  would  stay  where 
she  was  till  she  changed  her  mind.  Her  aunt  would 
take  up  her  meals,  and  he  himself  would  undertake  to 
inform  her  as  to  her  duties  and  responsibilities  at  suit- 
able intervals.  There  was  not  the  least  doubt  in  the  mind 
of  Dr.  Stuart  as  to  the  result  of  such  a  course  of  treat- 
tnent.     Had  he  not  willed  it?     That  was  surely  enough. 

But  his  sister  was  not  so  sure,  though  she  did  not  dare 
to  say  so  to  the  Doctor  more  than  once. 

"  She  is  a  very  headstrong  girl,  Murdo,"  she  said 
tremulously,  as  she  gathered  Elspeth's  scanty  breakfast 
on  a  tray  next  morning,  "  it  might  drive  her  to  some  rash 
act !  " 

169 


170  THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN 

"Nonsense,"  retorted  her  brother,  sharply,  "did  not 
our  father  do  exactly  the  same  to  you,  to  keep  you  from 
marrying  young  Campbell  of  Luib  ?  " 

Mary  Stuart's  wintry-apple  face  twitched  and  flushed. 

"  Yes  —  yes,"  she  fluttered,  with  a  quaver  in  her  voice, 
as  if  deprecating  further  allusion  to  herself,  "but  Elspeth 
is  not  like  me,  Murdo.     She  has  more  of  your  spirit." 

"  Let  me  hear  no  more  of  the  matter,"  said  her  brother, 
turning  away,  "/wish  it,  and  besides,  I  have  my  sermon 
to  write." 

But  when  the  maiden  aunt  knocked  at  the  door  and 
entered  with  Elspeth's  breakfast,  she  was  astonished  to 
find  the  girl  sitting  by  the  window  dressed  exactly  as 
she  had  been  on  the  previous  evening.  Her  face  was 
very  pale,  but  her  lips  were  compressed  and  her  eyes 
dry. 

"Elspeth,"  she  said  uncertainly,  her  woman's  intuition 
in  a  moment  detecting  that  which  a  man  might  not  have 
discovered  at  all,  "you  have  not  had  off  your  clothes  all 
night.     You  have  never  been  to  bed  !  " 

"  No,  Aunt  Mary  !  " 

"  But  what  will  the  Doctor  say  —  think  of  your 
father " 

"  I  do  not  care  what  he  will  say.  Let  him  come  and 
compel  me  if  he  can.  He  can  thrash  me  as  he  does 
Frank." 

"But  —  oh,  Elspeth  —  Elspeth,  dear,"  the  old  lady 
trembled  so  much  that  she  just  managed  to  lay  the  tray 
down  on  the  untouched  bed  opposite  the  window,  "  what 
will  God  say  ?  " 

" '  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children/  isn't  that 
what  it  says  ?  "     The  words  came  out  of  the  depths  of 


THE   SUIT  OF    BOTTLE   GREEN  171 

the  bitterness  of  that  young  heart.     "  Well,  if  that  be 
true,  dud  will  say  nothing;  for  if  He  is  like  my  father, 

He  will  nut  can-  !  '" 

The  old  lady   sat  down  on  an  old  rocking-chair  which 
Elspeth  liked  to  keep  in  the  window  to  sit  in  and  i 
half  because  it  had  been   her  mother's,  and   half   (for 
Elspeth  was   not  usually  a  sentimental  young  woman) 
because  it  was  comfortable. 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  sobbed  into  them. 
Then  for  the  first  time  Elspeth  looked  at  her.  Hitherto 
she  had  been  staring  straight  out  at  the  window.  So  she 
had  seen  the  day  pass  and  the  night  come.  So  she  had 
seen  and  not  seen,  heard  and  not  heard,  the  shadow  of 
night  sweep  across  the  broad  river,  the  stars  come  out, 
the  cue  owls  mew  as  they  flashed  past  silent  as  insects 
on  the  wing,  and  last  of  all,  the  rooks  clamour  upwards 
from  the  tall  trees  at  break  of  day. 

Now,  howrever,  she  watched  her  aunt  weeping  with 
that  curious  sense  of  detachment  which  comes  to  the 
young  along  with  a  first  great  sorrow. 

"  Why  should  she  weep  ? "  Elspeth  was  asking  her- 
self ;  "  she  had  nothing  to  cry  for.  There  can  be  no  sorrow 
in  the  world  like  my  sorrow  and  shame  —  and  his,  that 
is,  if  he  really  cares.  Perhaps  he  does  not  care.  They 
say  in  books  that  men  often  pretend.  But  no  —  he  at 
least  never  could  do  that.  He  is  too  true,  too  simple, 
too  direct  —  and  he  loves  me  !  " 

So  she  watched  her  aunt  rock  to  and  fro  and  sob  with- 
out any  pity  in  her  heart,  but  only  with  a  growing 
wonderment  —  much  as  a  condemned  man  might  look  at 
a  companion  who  was  complaining  of  toothache.  The 
long  vigil  of  the  night  had  made  the  girl's  heart  numb 


172  THE    SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN 

and  dead  within  her.  At  twenty  sorrow  and  joy  alike 
arrive  in  superlatives. 

Then  quite  suddenly  a  spasm  of  pity  of  a  curious  sort 
came  to  Elspeth  Stuart.  After  all,  it  was  worth  while  to 
love.  He  was  suffering  too.  Aunt  Mary  had  no  one  to 
love  her  —  to  suffer  with  her.  Poor  Aunt  Mary !  So 
she  went  quickly  across  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  thin 
shoulder.  It  felt  angular  even  through  the  dress.  The 
sobs  shook  it. 

"  Do  not  cry,  auntie,"  she  said,  softly  and  kindly.  "  I 
am  sorry  I  vexed  you.     I  did  not  know." 

The  old  lady  looked  up  at  her  niece.  Elspeth  started 
at  the  sight  of  a  tear  stealing  down  a  wrinkle.  Tears  on 
young  faces  are  in  place.  They  can  be  kissed  away,  but 
this  seemed  wrong  somehow. 

She  patted  the  thin  cheek,  which  had  already  begun  to 
take  on  the  dry  satiny  feel  of  age,  which  is  so  different 
from  the  roseleaf  bloom  of  youth. 

"  Then  you  will  obey  your  father  ?  " 

The  words  came  tremulously.  The  pale  lips  "  wick- 
ered." The  tear  had  trickled  thus  far  now,  but  Aunt 
Mary  did  not  know  it.  It  is  only  youth  that  tastes  its 
own  tears.     And  generally  rather  likes  the  flavour. 

Elspeth  did  not  stop  petting  her  aunt.  She  stroked 
the  soft  hair,  thinning  now  and  silvering.  Then  she 
smiled  a  little. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  will  not  obey  my  father,  Aunt 
Mary.  I  am  no  child  to  be  put  in  the  corner.  I  am  a 
woman,  and  know  what  I  want." 

Yet  it  was  only  during  the  past  night  watches  that 
she  had  known  it  for  certain.  But  yesterday  her  desire 
to  see  Allan  Syme  had  been  no  more  than  a  little  ache 


THE    SUIT   OF    BOTTLE    <■;;..  17:: 

deep  down  in  her  heart.    New  it  had  bei  .!  her  i 

So  fertile  a    soil    wherein   to   grow  love   is   injudicious 

opposition. 

"  But  at  anv  rate  you  will  take  your  breakfast  ?  " 

"To  plea  i  I  will  try,  aunt  !  " 

Aunt  Mai)'  plucked  up  heart  at  once.  This  was  better, 
she  had  made  a  beginning.     The  rest  would  1'ollow. 

When  she  went  downstairs  her  brother  car ui  of  his 

study  to  get  the  key  of  his  daughter's  room.  She  told 
him  how  that  Elspeth  had  never  gone  to  bed,  and  had 
barely  picked  at  her  breakfast. 

Dr.  Stuart  made  no  remark.  He  turned  and  went  into 
his  study  again  to  work  at  his  sermon.  He  too  thought 
that  all  went  well.  He  held  that  belief  which  causes  so 
much  misery  in  the  world,  that  woman's  will  must  always 
bend  before  man's. 

So  it  does  —  provided  the  man  is  the  right  man. 

On  the  third  day  of  her  confinement  Elspeth  Stuart 
wrote  a  letter  It  began  without  ceremony,  and  ended 
without  signature: 

"  You  told  me  that  you  loved  me.  Tell  it  me  again  — 
on  paper.  I  am  very  unhappy.  My  father  keeps  me 
locked  up  to  make  me  promise  never  to  speak  to  you  or 

;te  to  you.  I  do  not  mind  this,  except  that  I  cannot 
to  Lowe's  Seat.  But  1  must  be  assured  that  you  con- 
tinue to  love  me.  I  know  you  do,  but  all  the  same  I 
want  to  be  told  it.  If  you  address,  '  Care  of  the  Widow 
Barr,  at  the  Village  of  Crosspatriek.'  Frank  will  bring  it 
safely." 

It  was  a  simple  epistle,  without  lofty  aspirations  or 
wise  words.     But  it  was  a  loving  letter,  and  admirably 


174  THE   SUIT  OF  BOTTLE   GREEN 

adapted  to  prove  satisfactory  to  its  recipient.  And  had 
Allan  Syme  known  what  was  on  its  way  to  him  he  would 
have  lifted  up  his  heart.  He  was  completing  his  pas- 
toral visitation,  and  with  a  sort  of  fixed  despair  await- 
ing the  next  meeting  of  Session.  Eor  neither  his  ruling 
elder  nor  yet  that  slow-spoken  veteran,  Matthew  Carment, 
had  passed  a  word  more  to  him  concerning  the  vision 
they  had  seen  upon  the  fringes  of  the  Airds  woods,  on 
the  day  that  had  proved  such  a  day  of  doom  to  his 
sweetheart  and  himself. 

Frank  Stuart,  keenly  sympathetic  with  Elspeth's  suf- 
ferings though  notably  contemptuous  of  their  cause,  will- 
ingly performed  what  was  required  of  him.  Being  as  yet 
untouched  by  love,  he  thought  Elspeth  extremely  silly. 
He  had  no  interest  in  ministers.  If  Elspeth  had  fallen 
in  love  with  a  soldier  now  —  he  meant  to  be  a  sailor 
himself,  but  a  soldier  was  at  least  somebody  in  the 
scheme  of  things.  Of  course,  his  father  was  a  minister 
—  but  then  people  must  have  fathers.  This  was  differ- 
ent. However,  it  was  not  his  business  :  girls  were  all 
silly. 

And  on  this  broad  principle  Master  Frank  took  his 
stand.  With  equal  breadth  of  view  he  conveyed  the 
letter  to  the  "  Weedow's  "  at  Crosspatrick,  en  route  for 
the  Cameronian  manse  at  Cairn  Edward. 

But  before  he  set  out,  he  must  have  his  grumble.  He  was 
beneath  the  window  of  his  sister's  room  at  the  time.  His 
father  had  been  under  observation  all  the  morning,  and  was 
now  safely  off  on  his  visitations.  By  arrangement  with 
Aunt  Mary,  Elspeth  was  allowed  the  run  of  the  whole 
upper  storey  of  the  Dullarg  Manse  during  Dr.  Stuart's 


THE   SUIT   ()K    BOTTLE   GKEE29  L76 

daily  absences.  So,  on  parole,  Bhe  came  to  tliis  little 
window  in  the  gable  *jih1,  where  Prank  and  she  could 
commune  without  fear  of  foreign  observation. 

*•  What  for  could  ye  no  have  promised  my  father  ony- 
thing  —  and  then  no  done  it!" 

The  suggestion  betrayed  Master  Frank's  own  plan  of 
campaign,  and  renders  more  excusable  the  Doctor's  fre- 
quent appeal  to  the  argument  of  the  hazel. 

****** 

After  this  there  ensued  for  Elspeth  a  long  and  weary 
time.      Every  day   Frank,    detaching  himself   from    I 
untrustworthy    Sandy,   slid   off   down    tin'  ivaterside   to 
Crosspatrick.       Every    day   he   returned   empty-handed 
and  contemptuous. 

This  it  was  to  love  a  minister,  and  one.  who  was  not 
even  a  "  regular."  Why  had  not  Elspeth,  if  she  must 
fall  in  love,  chosen  a  sailor  ? 

In  those  days  there  was  no  regular  postal  delivery 
in  the  remoter  country  districts.  The  mails  came  in 
an  amateurish  sort  of  way  by  coach  to  Cairn  Edward, 
and  tl  r  distributed  themselves,  as  it  were,  auto- 

matically. ^Yho^  the  postage  was  paid,  the  authorities 
had  no  more  care  in  the  matter.  Yet  there  was  a  kiud 
of  system  in  the  thing,  too. 

It  was  understood  that  any  one  being  in  Cairn  Edward 
on  business  should  "give  a  look  in"  at  the  Post  Office, 
and  if  there  were  any  letters  for  his  neighbourhood,  and 
he  happened  to  have  in  his  pocket  the  necessary  spare 
"  siller  "  at  the  moment,  he  would  pa)*  the  postage  and 
bring  them  to  the  "  Weedow  Barr's  "  shop  in  the  village 
of  Crosspatrick. 

It  may  be  observed  that  there  were  elements  of  un- 


176  THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN 

certainty  inseparable  from  such  an  arrangement.  And 
these  told  hard  on  our  poor  prisoner  of  fate  during  these 
great  endless  midsummer  days.  She  pined  and  grew 
pale,  like  a  woodland  bird  shut  suddenly  in  a  close  cage 
at  that  season  when  mate  begins  to  call  to  mate  through 
all  the  copses  of  birch  and  alder. 

"  He  does  not  love  me  —  oh,  he  cannot  love  me !  "  she 
moaned.  But  again,  as  she  thought  of  the  stile  on  the 
way  to  Lowe's  Seat  —  "  But  he  does  love  me !  "  she  said. 

-JF  TT  TV>  TV  TV  ^ 

Then,  sudden  as  a  falling  star,  Fear  fell  on  that  green 
summer  world.  There  came  a  weird  sough  through  all 
the  valley,  a  crying  of  folk  to  each  other  across  level 
holms,  shrill  answerings  of  herd  to  herd  on  the  utmost 
hills.  The  scourge  of  God  had  come  again!  The  Chol- 
era—  the  Cholera  !  Dread  word,  which  we  in  these 
times  have  almost  forgot  the  thrill  of  in  our  flesh.  Mys- 
teriously and  inevitably  the  curse  swept  on.  It  was  at 
Leith  —  at  Glasgow  —  at  Dumfries  —  at  Cairn  Edward. 
It  was  coming  !  coming  !  coming !  Nearer,  nearer  — 
ever  nearer ! 

And  men  at  the  long  scythe,  sweeping  the  lush  meadow 
hay  aside  with  that  most  prideful  of  all  rustic  gestures, 
fell  suddenly  chill  and  shuddered  to  their  marrows.  The 
sweat  of  endeavour  dried  on  them,  and  left  them  chill, 
as  if  the  night  wind  had  stricken  them.  Women  with 
child  swarfed  with  fear  at  their  own  door  cheeks,  and 
there  was  a  crying  within  long  ere  the  posset-cup  could 
be  made  ready.  Neighbour  looked  with  sudden  suspi- 
cion at  neighbour,  and  men  at  friendly  talk  upon  the 
ieas  manoeuvred  to  get  to  windward  of  each  other. 

Death  was  coming  —  had   come !     And  in  his  study, 


rnK  suit  <>r  bottle  gjree:n         177 

grim  and  unmoved,  Dr.  Murdo  Smart  sat  preparing  his 
Sabbath's  sermon  on  the  text,  "Therefore.  .  .  because 
I  will  do  this   unto  thee3   prepare  to  meet  thy  God,  0 

Israel!  " 
But  in  the  shut  chamber   above  Elspeth  waited 

watched,  the  hope  that  is  deferred  making  her  young 
heart  sicker  and  ever  sicker.  Still  she  had  not  heard. 
"N~o  answering  word  had  reached  her,  and  it  was  now  the 
second  week.     He  did  not  love  her  —  he  could  not. 

But  still! 

They  had  told  her  nothing,  and,  indeed,  during  thai 
first  time  of  fear  and  uncertainly,  they  knew  nothing  for 
certain,  away  up  by  themselves  in  the  wide  wild  moor 
parish  of  Dullarg.  There  were  no  market  days  in  Cairn 
Edward  any  more.  So  much  the  farmers  knew.  The 
men  of  the  landward  parishes  set  guards  with  loaded 
guns  upon  every  outgoing  road.  There  was  no  local 
authority  in  those  days,  and  men  in  such  cases  had  to 
look  to  themselves.  The  infected  place,  be  it  city,  toi 
or  village,  farm-steading  or  cottage,  was  completely  and 
bitterly  isolated.  None  might  come  out  or  go  in.  I" 
visions,  indeed,  were  left  in  a  convenient  spot ;  but 
secretly  and  by  night.  And  the  bearer  shot  away  again, 
bent  half  to  the  ground  with  eagerness,  fear,  and  speed, 
a  cloth  to  his  mouth,  for  the  very  wind  that  passed  over 
him  was  Death.  It  was  not  so  much  a  disease  as  a  cer- 
tain Fate.  Whoso  was  smitten  was  taken.  In  fact,  to 
all  that  rustic  world  it  was  the  Visitation  of  Very  God. 

In  the  main  street  of  Cairn  Edward  grass  grew  ;  ye1 
the  place  was  not  unpopulous.  With  the  revival  of 
trade  and  industry  during  the  later  years  of  the  great 
war   a  cotton  mill  had    been    erected   in  a  side 


178  THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GBEEN 

The  houses  of  the  work  folk  were  strung  out  from  it. 
Then  parallel  with  this  there  was  a  more  ancient  mam 
street  of  low  beetle-browed  houses,  many  of  them  en- 
tering by  a  step  down  off  the  uneven  causeway.  At 
the  upper  end,  near  the  Cross,  were  some  better-class 
houses,  some  of  them  of  two  storeys,  a  change-house  or 
two,  and  down  on  the  damp  marshy  land  towards  the  loch, 
the  cluster  of  huts  which  had  formed  the  original  nucleus 
of  the  village  —  now  fallen  into  disrepute  and  disrepair, 
and  nominated,  from  the  nationality  of  many  of  its  inhab- 
itants, "  Little  Dublin." 

In  ten  days  a  third  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  suburb 
had  died.  There  was  but  one  minister  within  the  strait 
bounds  of  the  straggling  village.  The  parish  church 
and  manse  lay  two  miles  away  out  on  a  braeface  overlook- 
ing yellowing  widths  of  corn-land.  And  the  minister 
thereof  abode  in  his  breaches,  every  day  giving  God 
thank  that  he  was  not  shut  up  within  those  distant  white 
streets,  from  which,  day  by  day,  the  housewifely  reek 
rose  in  fewer  and  fewer  columns. 

But  Allan  Syme  was  within,  and  could  not  pause  to 
marry  or  to  give  in  marriage,  to  preach  or  to  pray,  so 
full  of  his  Master's  business  was  he.  For  he  must  nurse 
and  succour  by  day  and  bury  by  night,  week  day  and 
Holy  Day.  He  it  was  who  upheld  the  dying  head.  He 
swathed  the  corpse  while  it  was  yet  warm.  He  tolled 
the  death-bell  in  the  steeple.  He  harnessed  the  horse  to 
the  rude  farm-cart.  Sometimes  all  alone  he  dug  the 
grave  in  the  soft  marshy  flowe,  and  laid  the  dead  in  the 
brown  peat-mould.  For  it  was  no  time  to  stand  upon 
trifles  this  second  time  that  the  Scourge  of  God  had  come 
to  Cairn  Edward. 


THE    SUIT   OF    BOTTLE    CKl.l.N  L79 

To  the  outer  limit  of  the  cordon  of  watchers  came  the 
carriers  and  the  fanners,  the  country  lair  (rants,  and 

less  frequently  the  bien  well-stomached  meal  millers. 
In  silence  I  hey  deposited  their  goods,  for  the  most  p 
with  no  niggard  hand.  In  silence  they  took  the  fumi- 
gated pound  notes,  smelling  of  sulphur,  or  the  silver  coin 
of  the  realm,  with  the  crumbles  of  quick-lime  still  stick- 
ing to  the  milling  of  the  edges. 

So  across  a  kind  of  neutral  zone,  fearful  country  and 
infected  town  stood  glowering  at  each  other  like  em- 
Ik: i  tied  enemies,  musket  laid  ready  in  the  crook  of  elbow. 

And  when  one  mad  with  the  Fear  tried  to  cross,  he  was 
hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  or  shot  at  like  a  rabbit  running 
for  its  burrow.  And  the  townsmen  did  in  like  man- 
ner. For  ill  as  it  might  fare  with  them,  there  was 
deadlier  yet  to  fear.  In  Cairn  Edward  they  had  the 
AYhite  Cholera,  as  it  was  called.  The  Black  was  at 
Dumfries  —  so,  at  least,  the  tale  ran. 

And  as  he  went  about  his  work,  Allan  Syme  called 
upon  his  God,  and  thought  of  Elspeth.  But  her  letter 
never  reached  him,  and  he  knew  nothing  of  her  vigils. 
The  day  before  he  might  have  known  the  Fear  fell,  and 
the  door  was  shut. 

It  was  on  Saturday  afternoon  that  the  tidings  can: 
Elspeth  Stuart,  lonely  watcher  and  loving  heart.  It  was 
her  brother  Sandy  who  brought  them.  He  knew  nothing 
of  Elspeth's  matters,  being  young  and  by  nature  unworthy 
of  trust.  He  had  been  down  to  Crosspatrick  on  some 
errand,  and  now,  having  arrived  back  within  hailing 
distance,  he  was  retailing  his  experiences  to  his  brother 
Frank. 


180  THE    SUIT    OF    BOTTLE    GKEEN 

"  I  got  you  letter  back  frae  the  Weedow  —  an',  as  I 
wasna  gangin'  hame,  I  gied  it  to  my  faither." 

"  What  letter  ?  " 

Elspeth  could  hear  the  sudden  augry  alarm  in  Frank's 
voice ;  but  she  herself  had  no  premonition  of  danger, 

"  The  letter  ye  took  doon  to  Crosspatrick  for  Elspeth 
ten  days  syne.     Ye'll  catch  it,  my  man  !  " 

The  girl's  heart  sank,  and  then  leapt  again  within  her. 

Her  father  had  her  letter  —  he  would  read  it.  It  was 
plainly  addressed  in  her  handwriting  to  Allan  Syme. 
What  should  she  do  ? 

But  wait  —  there  was  something  else.  With  a  quick 
back-spang  came  the  countering  joy. 

"  But  then  he  has  never  got  my  letter.  He  knows 
nothing  of  my  unhappiness.  He  has  not  forgotten  me. 
He  loves  me  still.  What  care  I  for  aught  else  but 
that  ?  " 

There  came  up  from  the  courtyard  a  sound  of  blows, 
and  then  Sandy's  wail. 

"  I'll  tell  my  faither  on  ye,  that  I  will.  How  was  I  to 
ken  aboot  Elspeth's  letter  ?  And  they  say  the  minister- 
man  it  was  wrote  to  is  dead,  at  ony  rate  !  " 

Elspeth  heard  unbelievingly.  Dead  —  Allan  dead  ! 
And  she  not  know.  Absurd !  It  was  only  one  of 
Sandy's  lies  to  irritate  his  brother  because  he  had  been 
thrashed.  She  knew  Sandy.  Nevertheless  she  threw 
up  the  window.     Sandy  was  again  at  his  parable. 

"  They  buried  twenty-five  yesterday  in  the  moss.  The 
minister  was  there  wi'  the  last  coffin,  and  fell  senseless 
across  it.  He  never  spoke,  again.  He  is  to  be  buried 
the  morn  if  they  can  get  the  coffin  made!" 

Then,  so  soon  as  she  was  convinced  that  Sandy  was 


THE    SUIT   or    BOTTLE    GREEN  L81 

not  inventing  and  that  he  had  onlj  repeated  th(  gos- 
sip of  the  village,  a  kind  of  cold  calmness  took  hold  of 
Elspeth.  She  called  Frank  in  to  her,  and  v.  Inn  he  came, 
lo!  his  face  was  far  whiter  than  hers. 

She  made  him  tell  her  all  they  iiad  kept  from  her- 
of  the  dread  plague  that  had  fallen  so  sudden  and  swift 
upon  the  townlet  to  which  Allan  had  carried  her  heart. 
Then  she  thought  a  while  fiercely,  not  wavering  in  her 
purpose,  but  only  trying  this  way  and  that,  like  one  who 
thrusts  with  his  staff  for  the  safest  passage  over  a  dan- 
gerous boi,'.  Frank  watched  her  keenly,  but  could  make 
nothing  of  her  intent.     At  last  she  -poke: 

"  Go  and  get  me  the  key  of  your  box." 

"  What  do  ye  want  with  the  key  of  my  box  ?  "  queried 
her  brother,  astonished. 

"Never  heed  that,"  said  Elspeth,  clipping  her  words 
imperiously,  as,  in  seasons  of  stress,  she  had  a  way  •  i 
doing ;  "  do  as  I  bid  you  ! " 

And  being  accustomed  to  such  obediences,  and  albeit 
sorry  for  her,  Frank  went  out,  only  remarking  ominously 
that  he  would  have  a  job,  for  that  Aunt  Mary  carried  it 
on  her  bunch. 

He  came  back  in  exactly  ten  minutes,  and  threw  the 
key  on  the  floor. 

"Easier  than  I  expected,"  he  said  triumphantly;  "the 
old  buzzer  was  asleep  !  " 

"  Give  me  the  key,"  said  Elspeth,  still  in  a  brown 
study  by  the  window. 

But  this  was  too  much  for  Frank. 

"Pick  it  up  for  yourself,  Els,"  he  said,  "and  mind 
you  are  to  swear  you  found  it  on  the  floor !  " 

Frank  knew  very  well  that  if  one  is  going  to  lie  back 


182  THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE  GREEN 

and  forth  (as  lie  intended  to  do  when  questioned),  it  is 
well  to  be  prepared  with  occasional  little  scraps  of  truth. 
They  cheer  one  up  so. 

Elspeth  took  the  key,  and  hid  it  in  her  pocket. 

"  Now  you  can  go,"  she  said,  and  sat  down  on  the  bed, 
staring  out  at  the  broad  river  quietly  slipping  by. 

"  Well,   you    might   at   least   have    said   l  thank   you 

'  "  began  Erank.     But  catching  the  expression  of 

her  face,  he  suddenly  desisted,  and  went  out  without 
another  word. 

****** 

No,  Allan  Syme  was  not  dead.  But  he  staggered 
home  that  night  certainty  more  dead  than  alive.  All 
day  long  he  had  moved  in  an  atmosphere  of  the  most 
appalling  pestilence.  The  reek  of  mortality  seemed  to 
solidify  in  his  nostrils,  and  his  heart  for  the  first  time 
fainted  within  him. 

He  knew  that  there  would  be  no  welcome  for  him  in 
the  dark  and  lonely  manse ;  no  meal,  no  comfort,  no  liv- 
ing voice ;  not  so  much  as  a  dog  to  lick  his  hand.  His 
housekeeper,  a  mere  hireling,  had  fled  at  the  first 
alarm. 

It  was  dusk  as  he  thrust  the  key  into  the  latch,  as  he 
did  so  staggering  against  the  lintel  from  sheer  weariness. 
He  stood  a  little  while  in  the  passage,  shuddering  with 
the  oncomings  of  mortal  sickness.  Then  with  flint, 
steel,  and  laborious  tinder  box  he  coaxed  a  light  for  the 
solitary  taper  on  the  hall  table.  This  done,  he  turned 
aside  into  the  little  sitting-room  on  the  right  hand, 
where  he  kept  his  divinity  books. 

A  slight  figure  came  forward  to  meet  him,  with  up- 
turned face  and  clasped  petitionary  hands.     The  action 


THE   SUIT  OF    BOTTLE   GBEEN  183 

was  a  girl's,  hut  the  dress  and  figure  were  those  of  a 
bo}r.     Upon  the  threshold   the  minister    stopped   dead. 

He  thought  that  this  was  the  iirst  symptom  of  delirium 
—  he  had  seen  it  in  so  many,  and  had  watched  for  ii  in 
himself. 

But  the  lad  still  came  forward,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his 
arm.  lie  wore  a  suit  of  bottle  green  with  silver  buttons, 
a  world  too  wide  for  his  slim  form.  Knee  breeches  and 
buckled  shoes  completed  his  attire.  Allan  Syrne  staled 
wide-eyed,  uncomprehending,  his  hand  pressed  to  his 
aching  brow  in  the  effort  to  see  truly. 

"You  are  not  dead.  Thank  God!"  said  the  boy,  in  a 
voice  that  took  him  by  the  throat. 

"Who  —  who  are  yon?"  The  words  came  dry  and 
gasping  from  the  minister's  parched  lips. 

"  i"  am  Elspeth  —  do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  Elspeth  —  Elspeth  —  why  did  you  come  here  —  and 
thus  ?  " 

"  They  told  me  you  were  dead  —  and  my  father  locked 
me  up !  And  —  what  chance  had  a  girl  to  pass  the 
guards  ?     They  fired  at  me  —  see !  " 

And  lifting  a  wet  curl  from  her  brow,  she  showed  a 
wound. 

"Elspeth  —  Elspeth — what  is  all  this?  What  have 
they  done  to  you  ?  " 

"Nothing  —  nothing  —  it  is  but  a  scratch.  The  man 
almost  missed  me  altogether." 

"  Beloved,  what  have  you  done  with  your  hair  ?  " 

"  I  cut  it  off,  that  I  might  the  better  deceive  them  !  " 

"  Elspeth  —  you  must  go  back  !  This  is  no  place  for 
you !  " 

"  I  will  not  go  back  home.     I  will  die  first ! " 


184  THE    SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN 

"  But,  Elspeth,  think  if  any  one  saw  you — what  would 
they  say  ?  " 

"  That  I  came  to  help  you  —  to  nurse  you !  I  do  not 
care  what  they  would  say." 

"  My  dear  —  my  dear,  you  cannot  bide  here.  I  would 
to  God  you  could ;  but  you  cannot.  I  must  think  how 
to  get  you  away.     I  must  think  —  I  must  think  !  " 

The  minister,  sick  unto  death,  stood  with  his  hand 
still  pressed  to  his  brow.  At  sight  of  him,  and  because, 
after  all  she  had  gone  through  for  him,  he  had  given  her 
neither  welcome  nor  kiss,  a  swift  spasm  of  anger  flashed 
up  into  Elspeth's  eyes. 

"  You  are  ashamed  of  me,  Allan  Syme  —  let  me  go.  I 
will  never  see  you  more.  You  do  not  love  me!  I  will 
not  trouble  you.     Open  the  door ! " 

"  God  knows  I  love  you  better  than  my  soul ! "  said 
Allan ;  "  but  let  me  think.  Father  in  heaven  —  I  cannot 
think !     My  brain  runs  round." 

-  He  gave  a  slight  lurch  like  a  felled  ox,  and  swayed 
forward. 

Instantly,  as  a  lamp  that  the  wind  blows  out,  all  the 
auger  went  out  of  Elspeth  Stuart's  eyes.  She  caught 
Allan  in  her  strong  young  arms  and  laid  him  on  the  worn 
couch,  displacing  with  a  sweep  of  her  hand  a  whole  score 
of  volumes  as  she  laid  him  down. 

He  lay  a  moment  stiff  and  still.  Then  a  spasm  of  pain 
contorted  his  features.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked 
into  his  sweetheart's  eyes.  Theu,  with  the  swift  astonish- 
ing clearness  of  the  mortally  stricken,  he  saw  what  must 
be  done. 

"Allan,  Allan,  what  is  the  matter  —  what  shall  I  do 
for  you  ?  "  she  mourned  over  him. 


DHE   SUIT   OF    BOTTLE   (ilil.KN  is., 

••  I  >o  this."  answered  the  minister.     "Take  the  cloak 
out  of  thai  cupboard  there.     I   lmve  never  worn  it.     <,■ 
straight  to  John  Allanson.     He  is  my  Ruling  Elder.     II. 
bides  at  his  daughter's  house  close  by  the  cotton  mill. 
Tell  him  all,  and  bid  him  come  to  me." 

"The  dreadful  man  who  was  so  angry  —  that  day  at 
Lowe's  Seat ! "  she  objected,  not  fearing  for  herself,  but 
for  him. 

"He  is  not  a  dreadful  man.  Do  as  I  bid  you,  childie: 
I  am  sick,  but  I  judge  not  unto  death  !  " 

"  But  you  may  die  before  I  return  !  " 

"Do  as  I  bid  you,  Elspeth,"  said  the  minister,  waving 
her  away ;  "  not  a  hundred  choleras  can  deprive  me  of 
one  minute  God  has  appointed  mine!" 

She  bent  over  quickly,  and  kissed  him  on  lips  and 
brow. 

"  There  —  and  there  !  Now  if  you  die,  1  will  die  too. 
Remember  that !     And  I  do  not  care  now.     I  will  go  !  " 

Saying  this,  she  rushed  from  the  room. 

****** 

It  was  a  strange  visitor  who  came  to  the  house  of  the 
Elder's  daughter  that  evening,  as  the  gloaming  fell 
darker,  her  feet  making  no  sound  on  the  deserted  and 
grass-grown  streets. 

"A  young  laddie  wants  to  see  you.  father,"  said  John 
Allanson's  married  daughter,  with  whom  he  had  been 
lodging  for  a  night  when  the  plague  came,  in  a  single 
hour  putting  a  great  gulf  between  town  and  country. 
Then,  finding  his  minister  alone,  he  was  not  the  man  to 
leave  him  to  fight  the  battle  single-handed. 

Shamefacedly  Elspeth  crept  in.  The  old  man  and  his 
daughter  were  by  themselves,  the  husband  not  yet  home 


186  THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN 

from  the  joiner's  shop,  where  the  hammers  went  tap-tap 
at  the  plain  deal  coffins  all  day  and  all  night. 

"The  minister  is  dying  —  come  and  help  him  or  he 
will  die  !  "  she  cried,  as  they  sat  looking  curiously  at  her 
in  the  clear,  leaping  red  of  the  firelight. 

"  Who  are  you,  laddie  ?  "  said  the  elder. 

"  I  am  no  laddie,"  said  Elspeth,  redder  than  the  peat 
ashes.  "  Oh,  I  am  shamed  —  I  am  shamed !  But  I 
could  not  help  it.  And  I  am  not  sorry !  They  told  me 
he  was  dead.  I  am  Elspeth  Stuart,  of  the  Dullarg 
Manse." 

The  elder  sat  gazing  at  her,  open-mouthed,  leaning 
forward,  his  hands  on  his  knees.  But  his  daughter, 
with  the  quick  sympathy  of  woman,  held  out  her  arms. 

"  My  puir  lassie ! "  she  said.  She  had  once  lost  a 
bairn,  her  only  one. 

And  Elspeth  wept  on  her  bosom. 

The  daughter  waved  her  father  to  the  door  with  one 
hand. 

"  She  will  tell  me  easier  !  "  she  said. 

And  straightway  the  old  man  went  out  into  the  dark. 
****** 

It  did  not  take  long  to  tell,  with  Allan  Syme  lying  so 
near  to  the  gates  of  death.  Almost  in  less  time  than  it 
needs  to  write  it,  Elspeth  was  arrayed,  so  far  at  least  as 
outer  seeming  went,  in  the  garments  of  her  sex.  A  bas- 
ket was  filled  with  the  necessities  which  were  kept  ready 
for  such  an  emergency  in  every  house. 

"  Come,  father,"  the  loving  wife  cried  at  the  door  ;  "  I 
will  tell  you  as  we  gang  !  " 

And  before  she  had  won  third  way  through  her  story, 
John  Allanson  had  taken  Elspeth's  hand  in  his. 


THE   SUIT   OF   BOTTLE   GREEN  L87 

"My  bairn  !  my  bairn  !  "  lie  Baid. 

In  this  manner  Elspeth  came  the  second  time  to  the 
Manse  of  Allan  Syrue. 

****** 

But  the  third  time  was  as  the  mistress  thereof.  For 
she  and  the  elder's  daughter  nursed  Allan  Syme  through 
into  safety.  For  the  very  day  that  Allan  was  stricken, 
a  great  rain  fell  and  a  great  wind  blew.  The  birds  came 
back  to  the  gardens  of  Cairn  Edward,  and  the  plague 
lifted.  In  time,  too,  Dr.  Stuart  submitted  with  severe 
grace  to  that  which  he  could  not  help. 

"Indeed,  it  was  all  my  fault,  father,"  Elspeth  said; 
"  I  made  Allan  come  back  by  the  stile.  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  that  he  should.  I  knew  he  would  kiss  me 
there ! " 

"  Then  I  can  only  hope,"  answered  her  father,  severely, 
lifting  up  his  gold-knobbed  cane  and  shaking  it  at  her  to 
emphasise  his  point,  "that  by  this  time  your  husband 
has  learned  the  secret  of  making  you  obey  him.  It  is 
more  than  ever  your  father  did !  " 


A   SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIUM 

(Being  some  Hitherto  Unobserved  Phenomena  of  Feminine  Psychol- 
ogy from  the  notebook  of  A.  McQuhirr,  M.D.  Edin.) 

These  papers  of  mine  have  been  getting  out  of  hand  of 
late.  I  am  informed  from  various  quarters  that  they  are 
becoming  so  exceedingly  popular  and  discursive  in  their 
character,  that  they  are  enough  to  ruin  the  reputation  of 
any  professing  man  of  science.  I  will  therefore  be 
severe  with  myself  (and,  incidentally,  with  my  readers), 
and  occupy  one  or  two  papers  with  a  consideration  of 
some  of  the  minor  characteristics  common  to  the  female 
sex.  Indeed,  upon  a  future  occasion  I  may  even  devote 
an  entire  work  to  this  subject. 

I  have  mentioned  before  that  my  wife's  younger  sis- 
ter was  called  the  "  Hempie,"  l  which,  being  interpreted, 
signifies  a  wild  girl.  This  had  certainly  been  her  char- 
acter at  one  time  ;  and  though  she  deserves  the  name 
less  now  than  of  yore,  all  her  actions  are  still  marked  by 
conspicuous  decision  and  independence. 

For  instance,  the  year  after  Nance  and  I  were  married, 
the  Hempie  abruptly  claimed  her  share  of  her  mother's 
money,  and  departed  to  Edinburgh  "  to  get  learning." 

Now  it  was  a  common  thing  enough  in  our  part  of  the 
country  for  boys  to  go  out  on  such  a  quest.     It  was  un- 

1  Some  of  the  earlier  and  less  reputable  of  the  "  Hempie 's  "  adven- 
tures may  be  found  in  a  certain  unscientific  work  entitled  "  Lad's 
Love.'' 

188 


A   SCIEN  l  EPIC   SYMPOSIUM  L89 

heard  of  in   a  gixL     And    the   parish    would   bav<    been 
shocked  if  the  emigrant  had  been  anj    other   than   thi 
Hempie.       But    Miss    Elizabeth   Chrystie,    daughter    oi 
Peter  o  l    N  ither  Neuk,  was  a  young  woman  uot   accus- 
tomed to  be  bound  by  Ordinary  rules.     In  person  she  had 
grown  up  handsome  rather  than  pretty,  and   was  so  ath 
letic  thai  she  stood  in  small  need  of  the  ordinary  cour- 
tesies which  girls  love  —  hands  over  stiles,  and  so  forth. 
Eyes  and  hair  of  glossy  jet,  the  latter  crisping  naturally 
close  to  her   head,  a  healthy   colour    in   her  cheeks,  an 
ironic  curl  to  her  firm  fine  lips,  —  that  is  how  our  Hem- 
pie  came  back  to  us. 

Of  her  career  in  the  metropolis,  of  the  boarding- 
school  dames,  strait-laced  and  awful,  whom  she  scandal- 
ised, the  shut  ways  of  learning  which  somehow  were 
opened  before  her,  T  have  no  room  here  to  tell.  It  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  out  of  all  this  the  Hempie  came 
home  to  Nether  Neuk,  and  at  once  established  herself  as 
the  wonder  of  the  neighbourhood. 

Nance  was  gone,  Grace  going;  Clemmy  Kilpatrick, 
the  unobtrusive  little  woman  whom  Peter  Chrystie  had 
married  as  a  kind  of  foot- warm  or,  had  been  laid  aside  for 
six  weeks  with  an  "  income  "  on  her  knee.  The  maid- 
servants naturally  took  advantage.  Every  individual 
pot  and  pan  in  the  house  cumbered  the  back  kitchen 
unwashed  and  begrimed.  In  the  byres  you  did  not  walk 
—  you  waded.  The  ploughmen  hung  about  the  house 
half  the  morning,  gossiping  with  the  half-idle  maidens. 
The  very  herds  on  the  hill  eluded  Peter's  feeble  judica- 
ture, and  lay  asleep  behind  dyke-backs,  while  the  week- 
weaned  lambs,  with  many  tail-wagglings,  rejoined  their 
mothers  on  the  pastures  far  below. 


190  A  SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIUM 

Upon  this  confusion  enter  the  New  Henipie.  And 
with  her  gown  pinned  up  and  a  white  apron  on  that  met 
behind  her  shapely  figure,  she  set  to  and  helped  the 
servants. 

In  six  days  she  had  the  farm  town  of  Nether  Neuk 
in  such  a  state  of  perfection  as  it  had  not  known  since 
my  own  Nance  left  it.  For  Grace,  though  a  good  girl 
enough,  cared  not  a  jot  for  house-work.  Her  sphere  was 
the  dairy  and  cheese-room,  where  in  an  atmosphere  of 
simmering  curds  and  bandaged  Cheddars  she  reigned 
supreme. 

So  much  to  indicate  to  those  who  are  not  acquainted 
with  Miss  Elizabeth  Chrystie  the  kind  of  girl  she  was. 

For  the  rest,  she  despised  love  and  held  wooers  in  con- 
tempt, as  much  as  she  had  done  in  the  old  days  when 
she  ascended  the  roofs  of  the  pigstyes,  and  climbed  into 
the  beech-tree  tops  in  the  courtyard  of  Nether  Neuk, 
rather  than  meet  me  face  to  face  as  I  went  to  pay  my 
court  to  her  eldest  sister. 

"  Love "  she  said  scornfully,  when  I  questioned 

her  on  the  subject  the  first  time  she  came  to  see  us  at 
Cairn  Edward,  "  love  —  have  Nance  and  you  no  got  ower 

sic   nonsense  yet  ?    Love "  (still  more  scornfully) ; 

"  as  if  I  hadna  seen  as  much  of  that  as  will  serve  me  for 
my  lifetime,  wi'  twa  sisters  like  Grace  and  Nance 
there !  " 

It  did  not  take  us  much  by  surprise,  therefore,  when 
one  morning,  while  we  sat  at  breakfast,  the  Hempie 
dropped  in  with  the  announcement  that  she  could  not 
stand  her  father  any  longer,  and  that  she  had  engaged 
herself  to  be  governess  in  the  house  of  a  certain  Major 
Eandolph  Fergus  of  Craignesslin. 


A   SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIUM  VA 

To  a  young  lady  so  determined  there  was  no  more  to 
be  said.  Besides  which,  the  Eempie  was  of  full  age, 
perfectly  independent  as  far  as  money  went,  and  mure 
than  independent  in  characl 

■•  Snw\"  she  said.  "  1  have  just  fifteen  minutes  to 
catch  my  train:  how  am  I  to  get  my  bag  up  to  the 
station  ?  " 

"If  you  wait,"  I  said,  "the  gig  will  be  round  at  the 
door  in  seven  minutes.  I  have  a  case,  or  I  should  go  up 
with  you  myself." 

"  Who  is  driving  the  gig  ?  " 

"Tad  Anderson,"  said  I. 

The  Hempie  picked  up  a  pair  of  tan  gloves  and 
straightened  her  tall  lithe  figure. 

"Good-morning,"  she  said;  "give  me  a  lift  with  my 
box  and  wraps  to  the  door.  I  would  not  trust  Tad 
Anderson  to  get  to  the  station  in  time  if  he  had  seven 
hours  to  do  it  in  !  " 

At  the  door  a  boy  was  passing  with  a  grocer's  barrow. 
The  Hempie  swung  her  box  upon  it  with  a  deft  strong 
movement. 

"Take  that  to  the  station,  boy,"  she  commanded,  "and 
tell  Muckle  Alec  that  Elizabeth  Chrystie  of  the  Nether 
Neuk  will  be  up  in  ten  minutes." 

"But — but,"  stammered  the  boy,  astonished,  "I  hae 
thae  parcels  to  deliver." 

••  Then  deliver  them  on  your  road  down  !  "  said  the 
Hempie.  And  her  right  hand  touched  the  boy's  left  for 
an  instant. 

"  A'"  richt,  mem  !  "  he  nodded,  and  was  off. 

"Don't  trouble,  Alec.  Xance,  bide  where  you  are  —  I 
have  three  calls  to  make  on  the  way  up.    Good-morning !  " 


192  A   SCIENTIFIC    SYMPOSIUM 

And  the  Hempie  was  off.  We  watched  her  through 
the  little  oriel  window,  Nance  nestling  against  my  coat 
sleeve  pleasantly,  and,  in  the  shadow  of  the  red  stuff 
curtain,  even  surreptitiously  kissing  my  shoulder — a 
thing  I  had  often  warned  her  against  doing  in  public. 
So  I  reproved  her. 

"  Nance,  mind  what  you  are  about,  for  heaven's  sake  ! 
Suppose  any  one  were  to  see  you.  It  is  enough  to  ruin 
my  professional  reputation  to  have  you  do  that  on  a 
market  day  in  your  own  front  window." 

"Well,  please  may  I  hold  your  hand?"  (Then, 
piteously,  and,  if  I  might  call  it  so,  "Nancefully  ")  "You 
know  I  shall  not  see  you  all  day." 

"The  Hempie  would  not  do  a  thing  like  that!"  I 
answer  severely. 

Nance  watches  the  supple  swing  of  her  sister's  figure, 
from  the  stout-soled  practical  boots  to  the  small  erect 
head,  with  its  short  black  curls  and  smart  brown  felt 
hat  with  the  silver  buckle  at  the  side. 

"No,"  she  said,  "she  wouldn't."  Then,  after  a  sigh, 
she  added,  "  Poor  Hempie  !  " 

That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  our  sister  for  more  than  a 
year.  Elizabeth  Chrystie  did  not  come  back  even  for 
Grace's  marriage  to  the  laird  of  Butterhole. 

"  I  am  of  more  use  where  I  am,"  she  wrote.  "  Tell  Grace 
I  am  sending  her  an  alarm  clock  ! " 

Whether  this  was  sarcasm  on  the  Hempie's  part,  I  am 
not  in  a  position  to  say.  Grace  had  always  been  the 
sleepy-head  of  the  family.  If,  however,  it  was  meant 
ironically,  the  sarcasm  was  wasted,  for  Grace  was  de- 
lighted with  the  present. 

"It  is  so  useful,  you  know,"  the  Mistress  of  Butterhole 


A    SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIUM  L93 

told   Nance.      ••  I  every  mornin  four  o'clock, 

It  is  so  nice  to  turn  over  and  know  that  you  do  nut  need 
to  get  up  till  eight !  " 

****** 
As  suddenly  us  she  had  gone  away,  so  suddenly  the 
Hempie    returned,   giving  reasons   to    do   man.      I   am 

obliged  to  say  that  even  I  would  never  have  known  the 
true  story  of  the  adventures  which  follows  had  I  not 
shamefully  played  the  eavesdropper. 

It  happened  this  way. 

V.y  study,  where  I  try  upon  occasion  to  do  a  little 
original  work  and  keep  myself  from  dropping  into  the 
rut  of  the  pill-and-potion  practitioner  so  common  in  rural 
districts,  is  next  the  little  room  where  Nance  sits  reading, 
or  sewing  at  the  garmentry,  white  and  mysterious,  which 
some  women  seem  never  to  be  able  to  let  out  of  their 
reach.  Here  I  have  a  small  wall-press,  in  which  I  keep 
my  microscopes  and  preparations.  It  is  divided  by  a 
single  board  from  a  similar  one  belonging  to  Nance  on 
the  other  side.  When  both  doors  are  open  you  can  hear 
as  well  in  one  room  as  in  the  other.  T  often  converse 
with  Nance  without  rising,  chiefly  as  to  how  long  it  will 
be  till  dinner-time,  together  with  similar  important  and 
soul-elevating  subjects.  But  it  never  seems  to  strike 
her  that  I  can  hear  a.s  easily  what  is  said  in  her  room 
when  I  am  not  expected  to  hear. 

Now,  if  you  are  an  observant  man,  you  have  noticed, 
I  daresay,  that  so  soon  as  women  are  alone  together,  they 
begin  to  talk  quite  differently  from  what  they  have  done 
when  they  had  reason  to  know  of  your  masculine  presence. 
Yes,  it  is  true  — especially  true  of  your  nearest  and  dear- 
est.    Men  do  something  of  the  same  kind  when  women 


194  A   SCIENTIFIC    SYMPOSIUM 

go  out  after  dinner.  But  quite  otherwise.  A  man 
becomes  at  once  broader  and  louder,  more  unrestrained 
in  quotation,  allusion,  illustration,  more  direct  in  appli- 
cation. His  vocabulary  expands.  In  anecdote  he  is 
more  abounding  and  in  voice  altogether  more  natural. 
But  with  women  it  is  not  so.  They  do  not  look  blankly 
at  the  tablecloth  or  toy  with  the  stem  of  a  wine-glass,  as 
men  do  when  the  other  sex  vanishes.  They  glance  at 
each  other.  A  gentle  smile  glimmers  from  face  to  face, 
in  which  is  a  world  of  irony  and  comprehension.  It  says, 
"They  are  gone  —  the  poor  creatures.  We  can't  quite 
do  without  them ;  but  oh,  are  they  not  funny  things  ?  " 
Then  they  exchange  sighs  equally  gentle.  If  you  listen 
closely  you  can  hear  a  little  subdued  rustle.  That  is  the 
chairs  being  moved  gently  forward  nearer  each  other  — 
not  dragged,  mark  you,  as  a  man  would  do.  A  man  has 
no  proper  respect  for  a  carpet. 

"Well,  dear ?" 

"Well?" 

And  then  they  begin  really  to  talk.  They  have  only 
"  conversed "  so  far.  How  do  I  know  all  this  ?  Well, 
that's  telling.  As  I  say,  I  eavesdropped  part  of  it  — 
in  the  interests  of  science.  But  the  facts  are  true,  in 
every  case. 

The  Hempie  came  in  one  Saturday  morning.  It  was 
in  August,  and  a  glorious  day.  There  was  nothing 
pressing.  I  had  been  out  early  at  the  only  case  which 
needed  to  be  seen  to  till  I  went  on  my  afternoon  round. 

Nance  was  upstairs  giving  a  wholly  supererogatory 
attention  to  a  certain  young  gentleman  who  had  already 
one  statutory  slave  to  anticipate  his  wants.  He  was 
getting   ready  to  be  carried  into  the   garden.     I   could 


A   .SCIENTIFIC    SVMPOSIUM  195 

detect  signs  from  the  basement  that  cook  also  was 
tending  nursery-wards.  The  shrine  would  have  its 
full  complement  <>|  devout  worshippers  shortly. 

It  was  thus  that  I  came  to  be  the  first  to  welcome  the 
Hem  pie  upon  her  return.  She  opened  the  glass  door 
and  walked  in  without  ceremony,  putting  her  umbrella 
in  the  rack  and  hanging  her  hat  on  a  peg  like  a  man, 
not  bringing  them  in  to  cumber  a  bedroom  as  a  woman 
does.  These  minor  differences  of  habit  in  the  sexes 
have  never  been  properly  collated  and  worked  out.  As 
I  said  before,  I  think  I  must  write  a  book  on  the 
subject. 

At  any  rate,  the  Hempie's  action  was  the  exception 
which  proved  the  rule. 

Then  she  strolled  nonchalantly  into  my  study  and 
flung  herself  into  a  chair  without  shaking  hands.  I 
leaped  to  my  feet. 

"  Hempie,"  I  cried,  "  I  am  dreadfully  glad  to  see  you." 
And  I  stooped  to  kiss  her. 

To  my  utter  astonishment  she  took  the  salute  as  a 
matter  of  course,  a  thing  she  had  never  done  before. 
Yes,  somehow  the  Hempie  was  startlingiy  different. 

"What,"  she  said,  "are  you  as  glad  as  all  that? 
What  a  loving  brother  ! " 

But  I  think  she  was  pleased  all  the  same. 

"Where's  Nance?"  The  question  was  shot  out 
rather  than  asked. 

I  indicated  the  upper  regions  of  the  house  with  my 
thumb,  and  inclined  my  ear  to  direct  her  attention. 

A  high  voice  of  wonderful  tone  and  compass  (if  a 
little  thin)  was  lifted  up  in  a  decimating  howl.  Ensued 
a  gentle  confused  murmur:    "Did        .  then  ?      Was   it. 


196  A.   SCIENTIFIC    SYMPOSIUM 

then?"  together  with  various  lucid  observations  of  that 
kind. 

A  change  passed  over  the  Hempie's  lace. 

"  Now  we  are  in  for  it,"  I  thought.  "  She  will  leave 
the  house  and  never  enter  it  again.  The  Hempie  hates 
babies.  She  has  always  been  particularly  clear  on  that 
point." 

"  Why  did  you  never  tell  me,  Alec  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because  —  we  thought  you  would  not 
care  to  hear.     I  understood  you  didn't  like " 

"  Is  it  a  boy  or  a  girl  ?  " 

"Boy." 

There  was  a  sudden  uprising  from  the  depths  of  the 
easy-chair,  a  rustle  of  skirts,  the  clang  of  a  door,  hasty 
footsteps  on  the  stairs,  a  clamour  of  voices  from  which, 
after  a  kind  of  confused  climax  as  the  hope  of  the  house 
blared  his  woes  like  a  young  bull  of  Bashan,  there 
finally  emerged  the  following  remarkable  sentiments : 

"  Oh,  the  darling  !  Isn't  he  a  pet  ?  Give  him  to  me. 
Was  they  bad  to  him  ?  Then  —  well  then  !  They  shan't 
—  no,  indeed  they  shan't!    Now,  then!    Didums,  then!" 

And  da  capo. 

I  could  not  believe  my  ears.  The  words  were  the 
words  of  Nance,  but  the  voice  was  undoubtedly  the  voice 
of  the  Hempie.  It  was  half  an  hour  and  more  before 
they  descended  the  stairs,  the  Hempie  still  carrying- 
young  "  Bull  of  Bashan,"  now  pacifically  sucking  his 
thumb  and  gazing  serenely  through  and  behind  his  nurse 
in  the  disconcerting  way  which  is  common  to  infants  of 
the  human  species  —  and  cats. 

The  Hempie  passed  out  acros3  the  little  strip  of  gar- 
den we  had  at  the  back.      The  sunlight  checkered  the 


A   SCIENTIFIC    SYMPOSIH  M  197 

gras  .  and  the  uew  ourse  carried  her  charge  as  if  she 
had  Qeverdone  anything  else  all  her  life.    Every  moi  lenl 

she  would  stop  to  coo  a1  him.  Then  she  would  duck  h<  r 
head  like  a  turtle-dove  bowing  to  his  mate;  and  finally, 
as  if  taken  by  some  strange  contortive  disease,  she  would 
bend  her  neck  suddenly  and  mizzle  her  whole  face  into 
the  child's,  as  a  pet  pony  does  into  your  hand  —  a  hot, 
fatiguing,  and  wholly  unscientific  proceeding  on  an 
August  day. 

I  called  Nance  baci  on  pretext  of  matters  domestic. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  Hempie?"  I  said. 

••  Matter  with  the  Eempie  ?"  repeated  Nance,  trying 
aialy  to  look  blank.  "  Why,  what  should  be  the  matter 
with  the  Hempie  '.'  " 

•Don't  try  that  on  me,  you  little  fraud.  There  is 
something  :      What  is  it  '.' 

"  I  have  not  the  least  idea." 

"  Have  you  kissed  her  ?  " 

•■  No,  she  never  looked  at  me  —  only  at  the  baby,  of 
course." 

"  Then  go  and  kiss  her." 

Nance  went  off  obedieutly,  and  the  sisters  walked  a 
while  together.  Presently  the  baby  took  the  red  thumb 
out  of  his  mouth,  and  through  the  orifice  thus  created 
issued  a  bellow.  The  nurse  came  running.  Nance  took 
him  in  her  arms,  replaced  the  thumb,  and  all  was  well. 
Then  she  handed  him  back  to  the  Hempie  and  kissed  her 
as  she  did  so.  The  Hempie  raised  her  head  into  position 
naturally,  like  one  well  accustomed  to  the  operation. 

Nance  came  slowly  back  and  rejoined  me.  She  was 
unusually  thoughtful. 

"Well?"  I  said. 


198  A   SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIUM 

She  nodded  gravely  and  shook  her  head. 

"It  is  true,"  she  murmured,  as  if  convinced  against 
her  will ;  "  there  is  something.     She  is  different." 

"  Nance,"  said  I,  triumphantly,  for  I  was  pleased  with 
myself,  "  the  Hempie  is  in  love  at  last.  You  must  find 
out  all  about  it  and  tell  me." 

She  looked  at  me  scornfully, 

"  I  will  do  no  such  thing "  she  began. 

"It  is  not  curiosity  —  as  you  seem  to  think,"  I  remarked 
with  dignity.  "  It  is  entirely  in  the  interests  of  science," 
I  said. 

"  Rats !  "  cried  Nance,  rudely. 

As  I  have  had  occasion  to  remark  more  than  once 
before,  she  does  not  show  that  deference  to  her  husband 
to  which  his  sterling  worth  aud  many  merits  entitle  him. 
Indeed,  few  wives  do  —  if  any. 

"  Well,  I  will  find  out  for  myself,"  I  said  carelessly. 

"  You ! " 

Scorn,  derision,  challenge  were  never  more  briefly 
expressed. 

"  Yes,  I." 

"I'll  wager  you  a  new  riding-whip  out  of  my  house 
money  that  you  don't  find  out  anything  about  it ! " 

"Done!"  said  I. 

For  I  remembered  about  the  little  wall-press  where  I 
kept  my  microscope.  Not  that  I  am  by  nature  an  eaves- 
dropper ;  but,  after  all,  a  scientific  purpose  —  and  a  new 
riding-whip,  make  some  difference. 

I  was  busy  mounting  my  slides  when  I  heard  them 
come  in.  Instantly  I  needed  some  Canada  balsam  out  of 
the  wall-press — -in  the  interests  of  science.  I  heard 
Nance  go  to  the  door  to  listen  "  if  baby  was  asleep."     I 


A   SCIKNTIFIC    SYMPOSIUM 

have  often  represented  to  hex  that  slit-  dues  not  require  to 
do  this,  because  the  instant  baby  is  awake  he  adve 
the  fact  to  the  whole  neighbourhood,  as  effectually  as  if 
he  had  been  specially  designed  with  a  steam  whistle 
attachment  for  the  purpose.  But  I  have  never  suc- 
ceeded. 

"Yon  think  you  are  a  doctor,  Alec,"  is  the  answer, 
"  but  you  know  nothing  about  babies !  You  know  you 
don't!" 

Which  shows  that  I  must  have  spent  a  considerable 
part  of  my  medical  curriculum  in  vain. 

There  ensued  the  soft  muffled  hush  of  chairs  being 
pushed  into  the  window.  Then  came  the  first  dick-dick, 
jiggity-click,  of  a  rocking-chair,  which  Xance  had  bought 
for  me  "when  you  are  tired,  dear" — and  has  used  ever 
since  herself.  I  did  not  regret  this,  for  it  left  the  deep- 
seated  chintz-covered  one  free.  They  are  useless  things, 
anyway :  a  man  cannot  go  to  sleep  on  a  rocking-chair,  or 
strike  a  match  under  the  seat,  or  stand  on  it  to  put  up  a 
picture  —  or,  in  fact,  do  any  of  the  things  for  which 
chairs  are  really  designed. 

Now  when  a  woman  goes  to  sleep  in  a  chair,  she  always 
wakes  up  cross.  All  that  stuff  in  romances  about  kiss- 
ing the  beloved  awake  in  the  dear  old  rose-scented  par- 
lour, and  about  the  lids  rising  sweetly  from  off  loving  and 
happy  eyes,  is,  scientifically  considered,  pure  nonsense. 
Believe  me,  if  she  greets  you  that  way  the  lady  has  not 
been  asleep  at  all,  and  was  waiting  for  you  to  do  it. 

But  when  she,  on  the  other  hand,  wakes  with  a  start 
and  opens  her  eyes  so  promptly  that  you  step  back 
quickly  (having  had  experience);  when  she  speaks  words 
like  these,  "  Alec,  I  have  a  great  mind  to   give   you  a 


200  A   SCIENTIFIC    SYMPOSIUM 

sound  box  on  the  ear  —  coming  waking  me  up  like  that, 
when  you  know  I  didn't  have  more  than  an  hour's  good 
sleep  last  night!"  —  this  is  the  genuine  article.  The 
lady  was  asleep  that  time.  The  other  kind  may  be 
pretty  enough  to  read  about,  but  that  is  its  only  merit. 

It  was  Nance  who  spoke  first.  I  heard  her  drop  the 
scissors  and  stoop  to  pick  them  up.  I  also  gathered 
from  the  tone  of  her  first  words  that  she  had  a  pin  in 
her  mouth.  Yet  she  goes  into  a  fit  if  baby  tries  co 
imitate  her,  and  wonders  where  he  can  learn  such  habits. 
This  also  is  incomprehensible. 

"  Have  you  left  Craignesslin  for  good  ?  "  said  Nance, 
using  a  foolish  expression  for  which  I  have  often 
reproved  her. 

"I  am  going  back,"  said  the  Hempie.  I  am  not  so 
well  acquainted  with  the  nuances  of  the  Hempie's  voice 
and  habit  as  I  am  with  those  of  her  sister,  but  I  should 
say  that  she  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair  with  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  and  staring  contentedly 
out  at  the  window. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  the  death  of  the  old  major  would 
make  a  difference  to  you,"  said  Nance.  I  knew  by  the 
mumbling  sound  that  she  was  biting  a  thread. 

"It  does  make  a  difference,"  said  the  Hempie, 
dreamily,  "and  it  will  make  a  greater  difference  before 
all  be  done !  " 

Nance  was  silent  for  a  while.  I  knew  she  was  hurt  at 
her  sister's  lack  of  communicativeness.  The  rocking- 
chair  was  suddenty  hitched  sideways,  and  the  stroking 
rose  from  fifty  in  the  minute  to  about  sixty  or  sixty-five, 
according,  as  it  were,  to  the  pressure  on  the  boiler. 

Still  the  Hempie  did  not  speak  a  word. 


A   SCIENTIFIC   SYMPOSIT  M  L'ul 

The  rocking-chair  was  doing  a  good  seventy  now  — 
but  it  was  a  spurt,  a      could  not  la 

"Elizabeth,"  Baid  Nance,  suddenly,  ■■  I  did  not  think 
vou  could  be  so  mean.  I  never  behaved  like  this  to 
you/' 

"No?"  said  the  Hempie,  with  serene  interrogation, 
but  did  not  move,  so  far  as  1  could  make  out.  The 
rocking-chair  ceased.  There  was  a  pause,  painful  even 
to  me  in  my  little  den.  The  strain  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wall  must  have  been  enormous. 

When  Nance  spoke  it  was  in  a  curiously  altered  voice. 
It  sounded  even  pleading.  1  wish  the  Hempie  would 
teach  me  her  secret. 

"Who  is  it?  —  tell  me,  Hempie,"  said  Nance,  softly. 

I  did  not  catch  the  answer,  though  obviously  one  was 
given.  But  the  next  moment  I  heard  the  unbalanced 
clatter  of  the  abandoned  rocker,  and  then  Nance's  voice 
saying  :  "  No,  it  is  impossible  ! " 

Apparently  it  was  not,  however,  for  presently  I  heard 
the  sound  of  more  than  one  kiss,  and  I  knew  that  my 
dear  Mistress  Impulsive  had  her  sister  in  her  arms. 

••  Then  you  know  all  about  it  now,  Flempie  ?  " 

"  All  about  what  ?  " 

"  Don't  pretend, —  about  love.  You  do  love  him  very 
much,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  have  never  told  him  so  !  " 

"  Hempie ! " 

"  It  is  true,  Nance  !  " 

"  Then  why  have  you  come  home  ?  " 

"  To  get  married ! "  said  the  Hempie,  calmly. 


THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

This  is  the  somewhat  remarkable  story  the  Hempie 
told  my  wife  as  she  sat  sewing  in  the  little  parlour  over- 
looking the  garden,  the  day  Master  Alexander  McQuhirr, 
Tertius,  cut  his  first  tooth.1 

Elizabeth  Chrystie  was  a  free-spoken  young  woman, 
and  she  told  her  tale  generally  in  the  English  of  the 
schools,  but  sometimes  in  the  plain  country-side  talk  she 
had  spoken  when,  a  barefoot  bare-legged  lass,  she  had 
scrieved  the  hills,  the  companion  of  every  questing  collie 
and  scapegrace  herd  lad,  'twixt  the  Bennan  and  the  Butt 
o'  Benerick. 

"  When  I  first  got  to  Craignesslin,"  said  the  Hempie, 
"  I  thought  I  had  better  turn  me  about  and  come  right 
back  again.  And  if  it  had  not  been  for  pride,  that  is 
just  what  I  should  have  done." 

"  Were  they  not  kind  to  you  ?  "  asked  Nance. 

"  Kind  ?  Oh,  kind  enough  —  it  was  not  that.  I  could 
easily  have  put  an  end  to  any  unkindness  by  walking 
over  the  hill.  But  I  could  not.  To  tell  the  truth,  the 
place  took  hold  of  me  from  the  first  hour. 

"  Craignesslin,  you  know,  is  a  great  house,  with  many 
of  the  rooms  unoccupied,  sitting  high  up  on  the  hills,  a 

1  This,  however,  was  not  discovered  till  afterwards,  and  was  then 
acclaimed  as  the  reason  why  he  cried  so  much  on  the  arrival  of  his 
aunt  Elizabeth.  To  his  nearest  relative  on  the  father's  side,  however, 
the  young  gentleman's  performances  seemed  entirely  normal.  —A.  McQ. 

202 


THE  HEMKE'S   LOVE  STORY  203 

place  where  all  the  winds  blow,  and  where  the  trees 
are  mostly  BCrubby  scrunts  of  thorn,  turning  up  their 
branches  like  skeleton  han  ing  for  alms,  or  shriv- 

elled birches  and  cowering  firs  all  bent  away  from  the 
west. 

"  When  first  1  saw  the  place  I  thought  that  I  could 
never  bide  there  a  day  —  and  now  it  looks  as  if  I  were 
going  to  live  there  all   my  life. 

"The  hired  man  from  the  livery  stables  in  Drumfern 
set  my  box  down  on  the  step  of  the  front  door,  and  drove 
cff  as  fast  as  he  could.  He  had  a  long  way  before  him, 
he  said,  the  first  five  miles  with  not  so  much  as  a  cottage 
by  the  wayside.     He  meant  a  public-house. 

"  He  was  a  rude  boor.  And  when  I  told  him  so  he 
only  laughed  and  said  :  '  For  a'  that  ye'll  maybe  be  glad 
to  see  me  the  next  time  I  come  —  even  if  I  bring  a 
hearse  for  ye  to  ride  to  the  kirkyaird  in!' 

"  And  with  that  he  cracked  his  whip  and  drove  out 
of  sight.  I  was  left  alone  on  the  doorstep  of  the  old 
House  of  Craignesslin.  I  looked  up  at  the  small  windows 
set  deep  in  the  walls.  Above  one  of  them  I  made  out 
the  date  1658,  and  over  the  door  were  carven  the  letters, 
W.F. 

"  Then  I  minded  the  tales  my  father  used  to  tell  in 
the  winter  foresights,  of  Wicked  Wat  Fergus  of  Craig- 
nesslin, how  he  used  to  rise  from  his  bed  and  blow  his 
horn  and  ride  off  to  the  Whig-hunting  with  Lag  and 
Heughan,  how  he  kept  a  tally  on  his  bed-post  of  the  men 
he  had  slain  on  the  moors,  making  a  bigger  notch  all  the 
way  round  for  such  as  were  preachers. 

"  And  while  I  was  thinking  all  this,  I  stood  knocking 
for  admission.      1  could  not  hear  a  living  thing  move 


204  THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

about  the  place.  The  bell  would  not  ring.  At  the  first 
touch  the  brass  pull  came  away  in  ray  hands,  and  hung 
by  the  wire  almost  to  the  ground. 

"Yet  there  was  something  pleasant  about  the  place 
too,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  uncanny  silence,  I 
would  have  liked  it  well  enough.  The  hills  ran  steeply 
up  on  both  sides,  brown  with  heather  on  the  dryer  knolls, 
and  the  bogs  yellow  and  green  with  bracken  and  moss. 
The  sheep  wandered  everywhere,  creeping  white  against 
the  hill-breast  or  standing  black  against  the  skyline. 
The  whaups  cried  far  and  near.  Snipe  whinnied  up  in 
the  lift.  Magpies  shot  from  thorn-bush  to  thorn-bush, 
and  in  the  rose-bush  by  the  door-cheek  a  goldfinch  had 
built  her  nest. 

"  Still  no  one  answered  my  knocking,  and  at  last  I 
opened  the  door  and  went  in.  The  door  closed  of  its 
own  accord  behind  me,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  great 
hall  with  tapestries  all  round,  dim  and  rough,  the  bright 
colours  tarnished  with  age  and  damp.  There  were  suits 
of  armour  on  the  wall,  old  leathern  coats,  broad-swords 
basket-hilted  and  tasselled,  not  made  into  trophies,  but 
depending  from  nails  as  if  they  might  be  needed  the 
next  moment.  Two  ancient  saddles  hung  on  huge  pins, 
one  on  either  side  of  the  antique  eight-day  clock,  which 
ticked  on  and  on  with  a  solemn  sound  in  that  still  place. 

"  I  did  not  see  a  single  thing  of  modern  sort  anywhere 
except  an  empty  tin  which  had  held  McDowall's  Sheep 
Dip. 

"  Nance,  you  cannot  think  how  that  simple  thing 
reassured  me.  I  opened  the  door  again  and  pulled  ray 
box  within.  Then  I  turned  into  the  first  room  on  the 
right.     I  could  see  the  doors  of  several  other  rooms,  but 


THE    HEMPIE'S    LOVE   8TOEY  206 

the)  were  all  dart  and  looked  cavernous  and  tin 
ing  as  the  mouths  of  cannon. 

"But  the  room  to  the  right  was  bright  and  filled  with 
the  sunshine  from  end  to  end,  though  the  furniture  was 
old,  the  huge  chairs  uncovered  and  polished  only  by  use, 
and  the  great  oak  table  in  the  centre  hacked  and  chipped. 
From  the  window  1  could  see  an  oblong  of  hillside  with 
sheep  coming  and  going  upon  it.  I  opened  the  lattice 
and  looked  out.  There  came  from  somewhere  far  under- 
neath, the  scent  of  bees  and  honeycombs.  I  began  to 
grow  lonesome  and  eerie.  Yet  somehow  I  dared  not  for 
the  life  of  me  explore  further. 

"  It  was  a  strange  feeling  to  have  in  the  daytime,  and 
you  know,  Nance,  1  used  to  go  up  to  the  muir  or  down 
past  the  kirkyaird  at  any  hour  of  the  night. 

"I  did  not  take  off  my  things.  I  did  not  sit  down, 
though  there  were  many  chairs,  all  of  plain  oak,  massive 
and  ancient,  standing  about  at  all  sorts  of  angles.  One 
had  been  overturned  by  the  great  empty  fireplace,  and  a 
man's  worn  riding-glove  lay  beside  it. 

"  So  I  stood  by  the  mantelpiece,  wondering  idly  if  this 
could  be  Major  Fergus's  glove,  and  what  scuffle  there 
had  been  in  this  strange  place  to  overturn  that  heavy 
chair,  when  I  heard  a  stirring  somewhere  in  the  house. 
It  was  a  curious  shuffling  tread,  halting  and  slow.  A 
faint  tinkling  sound  accompanied  it,  like  nothing  in  the 
world  so  much  as  the  old  glass  chandelier  in  the  room  at 
Nether  Neuk,  when  we  danced  in  the  parlour  above. 

"  The  sound  of  that  shuffling  tread  came  nearer,  and  I 

grew  so  terrified,  that  I  think  if  I  had  been  sure  that  the 

way  to  the  door  was  clear,  I  should  have  bolted  there 

nd  then.     But  just  at  that  moment  I  heard   the  foot 


206  THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

trip.  There  was  a  muffled  sound  as  of  some  one  fall- 
ing forward.  The  jingling  sound  became  momentarily 
louder  than  ever,  to  which  succeeded  a  rasping  and  a 
fumbling.  Something  or  some  one  had  tripped  over  my 
box,  and  was  now  examining  it  in  a  blind  way. 

"  I  stood  turned  to  stone,  with  one  hand  on  the  cold 
mantelpiece  and  the  other  on  my  heart  to  still  the  pain- 
ful beating. 

"  Then  I  heard  the  shuffling  coming  nearer  again,  and 
presently  the  door  lurched  forward  violently.  It  did  not 
open  as  an  intelligent  being  would  have  opened  a  door. 
The  passage  was  gloomy  without,  and  at  first  I  saw 
nothing.  But  in  a  moment,  out  of  the  darkness,  there 
emerged  the  face  and  figure  of  an  old  woman.  She  wore 
a  white  cap  or  '  mutch,-  and  had  a  broad  and  perfectly 
dead- white  face.  Her  eyes  also  were  white  —  or  rather 
the  colour  of  china  ware  —  as  though  she  had  turned 
them  up  in  agony  and  had  never  been  able  to  get  them 
back  again.  At  her  waist  dangled  a  bundle  of  keys; 
and  that  was  the  reason  of  the  faint  musical  tinkling  I 
had  heard.  She  was  muttering  rapidly  to  herself  in  an 
undertone  as  she  shuffled  forward.  She  felt  with  her 
hands  till  she  touched  the  great  oaken  table  in  the  centre. 

"  As  soon  as  she  had  done  so,  she  turned  to  the  win- 
dow, and  with  a  much  brisker  step  she  went  towards 
it.  I  think  she  felt  the  fresh  breeze  blow  in  from  the 
heather.  Her  groping  hand  went  through  the  little 
hinged  lattice  I  had  opened.      She  started  back. 

"'Who  has  opened  the  window  ?  '  she  said.  *  Surely 
he  has  not  been  here !  Perhaps  he  has  escaped !  Walter 
—  Walter  Fergus  —  come  oot ! '  she  cried.  '  Ah,  I  see 
you,  you  are  under  the  table  ! ' 


THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY  207 

"And  with  surprising  activity  the  blind  old  woman 
bent  down  and  scrambled  under  the  table.  She  ran 
hither  and  thither  like  a  cat  after  a  mouse,  beating  the 
floor  with  her  hands  and  colliding  with  the  legs  of  the 
table  as  she  did  so. 

"  Once  as  she  passed  she  rolled  a  wall-white  eye  up  at 
me.  Nance,  I  declare  it  was  as  if  the  week-old  dead  had 
looked  at  you ! 

"  Then  she  darted  back  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  with 
her  fingers  to  her  mouth,  whistled  shrilly.  A  great  surly- 
looking  dog  of  a  brown  colour  lumbered  in. 

" '  Here,  Lagwine,  he's  lost.  Seek  him,  Lagwine !  Seek 
him,  Lagwine ! ' 

"And  now,  indeed,  I  thought,  'Bess  Chrystie,  your 
last  hour  is  come.'  But  though  the  dog  must  have 
scented  me  —  nay,  though  he  passed  me  within  a  foot, 
his  nose  down  as  if  on  a  hot  trail  —  he  never  so  much  as 
glanced  in  my  direction,  but  took  round  the  room  over 
the  tumbled  chairs,  and  with  a  dreadful  bay,  ran  out 
at  the  door.  The  old  woman  followed  him,  but  most 
unfortunately  (or,  as  it  might  be,  fortunately)  at  that 
moment  my  foot  slipped  from  the  fender,  and  she  turned 
upon  me  with  a  sharp  cry. 

" '  Lagwine,  Lagwine,  he  is  here  !  He  is  here  ! '  she 
cried. 

"  And  still  on  all  fours,  like  a  beast,  she  rushed  across 
the  floor  straight  at  me.  She  laid  her  hand  on  my  shoe, 
and,  as  it  were,  ran  up  me  like  a  cat.  till  her  skinny 
hands  fastened  themselves  about  my  throat.  Then  I 
gave  a  great  cry  and  fainted. 

****** 

"  At  least,  I  must  have  done  so,  for  when  T  came  to 


208  THE  HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

myself  a  young  man  was  bending  over  me,  with  a  white 
and  anxious  face.  He  had  on  velveteen  knickerbockers, 
and  a  jacket  with  a  strap  round  the  waist. 

" '  Where  is  that  dreadful  old  woman  ?  '  I  cried,  for  I 
was  still  in  mortal  terror." 

"I  should  have  died,"  said  Nance.  And  from  the 
sound  of  her  voice  I  judged  that  she  had  given  up 
the  attempt  to  continue  her  seam  in  order  to  listen  to 
the  Hempie's  tale,  which  not  the  most  remarkable  expo- 
sition of  scientific  truth  on  my  part  could  induce  her  to 
do  for  a  moment. 

"'It's  all  my  fault  —  all  my  fault  for  not  being  at 
home  to  meet  the  trap,'  I  heard  him  murmur,  as  I  sank 
vaguely  back  again  into  semi-unconsciousness.  When  I 
opened  my  eyes  I  found  myself  in  a  pleasant  room,  with 
modern  furniture,  and  engravings  on  the  wall  of  the 
'  Death  of  Nelson '  and  '  Washington  crossing  the  Dela- 
ware.' 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  speak  I  asked  where  I  was,  and 
if  the  horrible  old  woman  with  the  white  eyes  would 
come  back.  The  young  man  did  not  answer  me  directly, 
but  called  out  over  his  shoulder,  '  Mother,  she  is  coming 
to.' 

"  And  the  next  moment  a  placid,  comfortabledooking 
lady  entered,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  just  left  the 
room  for  a  moment. 

" '  My  poor  lassie,'  she  said,  bending  over  me,  '  this 
is  a  rough  home-coming  you  have  got  to  the  house  of 
Craignesslin.  But  when  you  are  better  I  will  tell  you 
all.     You  are  not  fit  to  hear  it  now.' 

"  But  T  sat  up  and  protested  that  I  was  —  that  I  must 
hear  it  all  at  once,  and  be  done  with  it." 


THE    HEMPIE'S    LOVE   STOET  209 

"Of  course,''  cried  Nance,  "you  felt  that  yon  c 
not   stay   unless   you  knew.       And    I    would    not    have 
stopped  another  minute  —  not  if  they  had  brought  down 
the  Angel  Gabriel  to  explain." 

"  Not  if  Alec  had  been  there  ?  "  queried  the  Hempie, 
smiling. 

"  Alec  !  "  cried   Nance,  in  great   contempt.     "  Indeed, 
if  Alec  had  been  in  such    a  place,   I   would  have  m;i 
Alec  come  away  inside  of  three  minutes  —  yes,  and  tak<- 
me  with  him  if  he  had  to  carry  me  out  on  his    back ! 
Stop  there  for  Alec's  sake '.'     No  fear  !  " 

That  is  the  way  my  married  wife  speaks  of  me  behind 
my  back.  But,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  there  is  no  legal 
remedy. 

"  Go  on,  Hempie ;  you  arc  dreadfully  slow." 

"So,"  continued  the  Hempie,  placidly,  "the  nice 
matronly  woman  bade  me  lie  down  on  a  sofa,  and  put 
lavender-water  on  my  head.  She  petted  me  as  if  I  had 
been  a  baby,  and  I  lay  there  curiously  content  —  me, 
Elizabeth  Chrystie,  that  never  before  let  man  or  woman 
lay  a  hand  on  me " 

"Exactly,"  said  Nance  ;  "was  he  very  nice-lookiiu 

"Who?" 

"  The  young  man  in  the  velveteen  suit,  of  course." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean,  was  he  better-looking  than  Alec  ?  " 

"Better-looking  than  Alec?  Why.  of  course;  Alec 
isn't  a  bit " 

'-Ilempie!" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then,  to  relieve  the  strain, 
the  Hempie  laughed.  "  Are  you  never  going  to  get  over 
it,  Nance  ?  " 


210  THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

"  Get  ou  with  your  story,  and  be  sensible."  I  could 
hear  a  thread  bitten  through. 

"  So  the  lady  began  to  talk  to  me  in  a  quiet  hushed 
tone,  like  a  minister  beside  a  sick-bed.  She  told  me 
how  some  years  ago  her  poor  husband,  Major  Fergus, 
had  had  a  dreadful  accident.  He  was  not  only  disfigured, 
but  the  shock  had  affected  his  brain. 

"'At  first,'  she  said,  'we  thought  of  sending  him  to 
an  asylum,  but  we  could  not  find  one  exactly  suited  to 
his  case.  Besides  which,  his  old  nurse,  Betty  Hearse- 
man,  who  had  always  had  great  influence  with  him,  was 
wild  to  be  allowed  to  look  after  him.  She  is  not  quite 
right  in  the  head  herself,  but  most  faithful  and  kind. 
She  cried  out  night  and  day  that  they  were  abusing  him 
in  the  asylum.  So  at  last  he  was  brought  here  and 
placed  in  the  old  wing  of  the  house,  into  which  you 
penetrated  by  misadventure  to-day.' 

" '  But  the  dog  ? '  I  asked  ;  '  do  they  hunt  the  patient 
with  a  fierce  dog  like  that  ? ' 

"'Ah,  poor  Lagwine,'  she  sighed,  'he  is  devoted  to 
his  old  master.  He  would  not  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head 
or  of  anybody's  head.  Only  sometimes,  when  he  finds 
the  door  open,  my  poor  Roger  will  slip  out,  and  then 
nobody  else  can  find  him  on  these  weariful  hills.' 

"Then  I  asked  her  of  the  younger  children  whom  I 
had  been  engaged  to  teach. 

" '  They  are  my  grandchildren,'  she  said ;  '  you  can 
hear  them  upstairs.' 

"  And  through  the  clamour  of  voices,  that  of  the  young 
man  I  had  seen  rang  loudest  of  all. 

" '  They  are  playing  with  their  father  ? '  I  said. 

"  She  shook  her  head.     '  They  are  the  children  of  my 


THE    IIKMlMK's    LOVE   BTOBY  211 

daughter  [sobel,'  Bhe  said.  married  Captain  Fee- 

,  of  the   Engineers,  her  own  cousin,  and  died  on  her 

way  out  to  the  West  [ndies.     So  Algernon  brought  them 

home,  and  here  they  are  settled  on  vis.  And  whal  with 
my  husband's  wastefulness  before  he  was  laid  aside,  and 
the  poor  rents  of  the  hill  farms  nowadays)  I  know  not 
what  we  shall  do.  Indeed,  if  it  were  not  for  my  dear 
son  Harry  we  could  not  live.  He  takes  care  of  every- 
thing, and  is  most  scrupulous  and  saving.' 

"So  when  she  had  told  me  all  this,  I  lay  still  and 
thought.  And  the  lady's  hand  went  slower  and  slower 
across  my  head  till  it  ceased  altogether. 

"'I  cannot  expect  you  to  remain  with  us  after  this, 
Miss  Chrystie,'  she  said,  'and  yet  I  know  not  what  I 
shall  do  without  you.  I  think  we  should  have  loved  one 
another.1 

"I  told  her  that  I  was  not  going  away  —  that  1  was 
not  afraid  at  all. 

"'But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear,'  she  said,  -1  do 
not  rightly  see  where  your  wages  are  to  come  from.' 

" '  That  does  not  matter  in  the  least,  if  1  like  the  place 
in  other  ways,'  I  said  to  her." 

"He  must  be  very  good-looking! "'  interjected  Nance. 

"  So  I  told  her  I  would  like  to  see  the  children.  She 
went  up  to  call  them,  and  presently  down  they  came  — 
a  girl  of  six  and  a  little  boy  of  four.  They  had  been 
having  a  rough-and-tumble,  and  their  hair  was  all  about 
their  faces.  So  in  a  little  we  were  great  friends.  They 
went  up  to  the  nursery  with  their  grandmother,  and  1 
was  following  more  slowly,  when  all  at  once,  Harry  —  I 
mean  the  young  man  —  came  hurrying  in,  carrying  a 
tray.     He  had  an  apron  tied  about  him,  and  the  bottom 


212  THE   HEMPJE'S   LOVE   STORY 

hem  of  it  was  tucked  into  the  string  at  the  waist.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  me  he  blushed,  and  nearly  dropped  the 
tray  he  was  carrying.  I  think  he  expected  me  to  laugh, 
but  I  did  not " 

"  Of  course  not,"  coincided  Nance,  with  decision. 

"I  just  opened  the  top  drawer  in  the  sideboard  and 
took  out  the  cloth  and  spread  it,  while  he  stood  with  the 
tray  still  in  his  arms,  not  knowing,  in  his  surprise,  what 
to  do  with  it. 

"  '  I  thought  you  had  gone  upstairs  with  my  mother,' 
he  said.  '  Old  John  Hearseman  is  out  on  the  hill  with 
the  lambs,  and  we  have  no  other  servants  except  the 
children's  little  nurse.' 

"  And  so  —  and  so,"  said  the  Hempie,  falteringly,  "  that 
is  how  it  began." 

I  could  hear  a  little  scuffle  —  which,  being  interpreted, 
meant  that  Nance  had  dropped  her  workbasket  and  sew- 
ing on  the  floor  in  a  heap  and  had  clasped  her  sister  in 
her  arms. 

"Darling,  cry  all  you  want  to!"  My  heart  would 
know  that  tone  through  six  feet  of  kirkyard  mould  — 
aye,  and  leap  to  answer  it. 

"I  am  not  crying —  I  don't  want  to  cry."  It  was  the 
Hempie's  voice,  but  I  had  never  heard  it  sound  like  that 
before.  Then  it  took  a  stronger  tone,  with  little  pauses 
where  the  tears  were  wiped  away. 

"  And  I  found  out  that  night  from  the  children  how 
good  he  was  —  how  helpful  and  strong.  He  had  to  be 
out  before  break  of  day  on  the  hills  after  the  sheep. 
Often,  with  a  game-bag  over  his  shoulder,  he  would  bring 
in  all  that  there  was  for  next  day's  dinner.  Then  when 
Betsy,  the  small  maid,  was   busy  with  his   mother,  he 


THE    I  IK  MI' IK'S    LOVE   STORY  213 

would  bathe  Algie  and  Madge,  and  pul  them  to  bed.  For 
Mrs.  Fergus,  though  a  kind  woman  in  her  way,  had  been 
accustomed  all  her  life  to  be  "waited  on.  .nil  urrvptcd 
everything  from  her  son's  hands  withoul  so  much  as 
'Thank  you.' 

"  So  I  did  not  say  a  word,  but  got  up  early  next  morn- 
ing and  went  downstairs.  And  what  do  you  think  1 
found  that  blessed  Harry  doing  —  blaclei}ig  my  boots!" 

There  was  again  a  sound  like  kissing  and  quiet  crying, 
though  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  tell  why  there  should 
have  been.  Perhaps  the  women  who  read  this  will  know. 
And  then  the  Hempie's  voice  began  again,  striving  after 
its  kind  to  be  master  of  itself. 

"  So,  of  course,  what  could  I  do  when  his  father  died  '.' 
He  and  I  were  with  him  night  and  day.  For  Betty 
Hearseman  being  blind  could  not  handle  him  at  all,  and 
Harry's  mother  was  of  no  use.  Indeed,  we  did  not  say 
anything  to  alarm  her  till  the  very  last  morning.  No,  I 
cannot  tell  even  you,  Nance,  what  it  was  like.  But  we 
came  through  it  together.     That  is  all." 

Nance  had  not  gone  back  to  her  sewing.  So  I  could 
not  make  out  what  was  her  next  question.  It  was  spoken 
too  near  the  Hempie's  ear.  But  I  heard  the  answer 
plainly  enough. 

"  A  month  next  Wednesday  was  what  we  thought  of.  It 
ought  to  be  soon,  for  the  children's  sake,  poor  littlethings." 

"  Oh,  yes,''  echoed  Nance,  meaningly.  "  for  the  chil- 
dren's sake,  of  cours<\ '" 

The  Hempie  ignored  the  tone  of  this  remark. 

"  Harry  is  having  the  house  done  up.  The  old  part  is 
to  be  made  into  a  kitchen.  Old  John  and  Betty  Hearse- 
man  are  to  have  a  cottage  down  the  glen." 


214  THE   HEMPIE'S   LOVE   STORY 

"And  you  are  to  be  all  alone,"  cried  Nance,  clapping 
her  hands,  "  with  only  the  old  lady  to  look  after  ?  That 
will  be  like  playing  at  house." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Hempie,  ironically,  "it  would  — 
without  the  playing.  Oh  no,  I  am  going  to  have  a  pair 
of  decent  moorland  lasses  to  train  to  my  ways,  and 
Harry  will  have  a  first-rate  herd  to  help  him  on  the 
hill." 

Then  she  laughed  a  little,  very  low,  to  herself. 

"  The  best  of  it  is  that  he  still  thinks  I  am  poor,"  she 
said.  "I  have  never  told  him  about  mother's  money, 
and  I  mean  to  ask  father  to  give  me  as  much  as  he  gave 
you  and  Grace." 

"Of  course,"  said  Nance,  promptly.  "I'll  come  up 
and  help  you  to  make  him." 

There  was  a  cheerful  prospect  in  front  of  Mr.  Peter 
Chrystie,  of  Nether  Neuk,  if  he  did  not  put  his  hand  in 
his  breeches'  pocket  to  some  purpose. 

"  Will  Alec  let  you  come.? "  queried  the  Hempie, 
doubtfully.     "  He  will  miss  you." 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  him  it  is  for  the  sake  of  baby's  health," 
said  Nance ;  "  and,  besides,  husbands  are  all  the  better 
for  being  left  alone  occasionally.  They  are  so  nice  when 
they  get  you  back  again." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  Hempie,  "  you  don't  mean  to  say 
that  Alec  has  fits  of  temper  ?  I  never  would  have 
believed  it  of  him." 

"  Hush ! "  said  Nance.  There  was  again  that  irri- 
tating whispered  converse,  from  which  emerged  the 
Hempie's  clear  voice : 

"  Oh,  but  my  Harry  will  never  be  like  that." 

"  Wait  —  only  wait,"  said  Nance.     "  Hempie,  they  are 


THE    HEMPIE'S    LOVE   8TOB  i  21fi 

all  alike.  And  besides,  they  write  you  such  nice  lettt 
when  they  are  away.  I  suppose  you  get  one  every  day  '.' 
Yes,  of  course.  What,  he  walks  six  miles  over  the  hill 
to  post  it'.'  That  is  nice  of  him.  Alec  once  came  all 
the  way  from  Edinburgh,  and  went  back  the  next  day, 
just  because  he  thought  I  was  cross  with  hiru " 

"  Oh,  but  my  Harry  never,  never " 

(Left  speaking.) 


THE  LITTLE  FAIR  MAN 
I.  —  Seed  Sown  by  the  Wayside 

Notable  among  my  father's  papers  was  one  bundle 
quite  by  itself  which  he  had  always  looked  upon  with 
peculiar  veneration.  The  manuscripts  which  composed 
it  were  written  in  crabbed  hand-writing  on  ancient  paper, 
very  much  creased  at  the  folds,  and  bearing  the  marks 
of  diligent  perusal  in  days  past.  My  father  could  not 
read  these,  but  had  much  reverence  for  them  because  of 
the  great  names  which  could  be  deciphered  here  and 
there,  such  as  "  Mr.  D.  Dickson,"  "  Mr.  G.  Gillespie," 
and  in  especial  "  Mr.  Samuel  Rutherfurd." 

How  these  came  into  the  possession  of  my  father's 
forbears,  I  have  no  information.  They  were  always 
known  in  the  family  as  "  Peden's  Papers,"  though  so 
far  as  I  can  now  make  out,  that  celebrated  Covenanter 
had  nothing  to  do  with  them  —  or,  at  least,  is  never  men- 
tioned in  them  by  name.  On  the  other  hand  I  find  from 
the  family  Bible,  written  as  a  note  over  against  the  entry 
of  my  great-grandmother's  death,  "  Aprile  the  seventeene, 
1731,"  the  words,  "Cozin  to  Mr.  Patrick  Walker,  chap- 
man, of  Bristo  Port,  Edinburgh." 

The  letters  and  narratives  are  in  many  hands  and 
vary  considerably  in  date,  some  being  as  early  as  the 
high  days  of  Presbytery,  about  1638,  whilst  others  in  a 

216 


SEED   SOWN    iSl    THE    WAYSIln.  L'17 

plainer  hand  Lave  manifestly  been  copied  or  rewritten  in 
tin-  first  decade  <>f  last  century. 

Now  after  !  came  from  college  am!  before  my  max 
riage,  T  had  sometimes  long  forenights  with  li' 
So  having  got  some  insight  into  ancient  handwriting 
from  my  friend  Mr.  James  Robb,  of  the  College  of  Saint 
M;iry,  an  expert  in  the  same  —  a  good  golfer  also,  and  ;i 
bitter  fellow  —  I  set  me  to  work  to  decipher  these  man- 
uscripts both  for  my  own  satisfaction  and  for  the  fur- 
ther pleasure  of  reading  them  to  my  father  on  Saturday 
nights,  when  I  was  in  the  habit  of  driving  over  to  see  my 
mother  at  Drumquhat  on  my  way  from  visiting  my 
patients  in  the  Glen  of  Kells. 

That  which  follows  is  from  the  first  of  these  docu- 
ments which  I  read  to  my  father.  He  was  so  much 
taken  by  it  that  he  begged  me  to  publish  it,  as  he  said. 
"  as  a  corrective  to  the  sinful  compliances  and  shameless 
defections  of  the  times."  And  though  I  am  little  san- 
guine of  any  good  it  may  do  from  a  high  ecclesiastic 
point  of  viewr,  the  facts  narrated  are  interesting  enough 
in  themselves.  The  manuscript  is  clearly  written  out 
in  a  tall  copy-book  of  stout  bluish  paper,  without  ruled 
lines,  and  is  bound  in  a  kind  of  gray  sheepskin.  The 
name  "  Harry  Wedderburn  "  is  upon  the  cover  here  and 
there,  and  within  is  a  definitive  title  in  floreated  capitals, 
very  ornately  inscribed: 

"  2Thc  Storu  of  the  (Eurmng  of  mr,  %pxxv  iL^Icooctbum, 
from  Darkness  to  Slight,  by  the  means  ano  instrument  of  ijflr. 
Samuel  Euthcrfurrj  of  xlttirjotb,  JScruant  of  @oo." 

Then  the  manuscript  proceeds  -. 

"  The  Lord  hath  spared  me,  Harry  Wedderburn,  these 


218  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

many  years,  delaying  the  setting  of  my  sun  till  once 
more  the  grass  grows  green  where  I  saw  the  blood  lie 
red,  and  I  wait  in  patience  to  lay  my  old  head  beneath 
the  sod  of  a  quiet  land. 

"  This  is  my  story  writ  at  the  instance  of  good  Mr. 
Patrick  Walker,  and  to  be  ready  at  his  next  coming  into 
our  parts.  The  slack  between  hay  and  harvest  of  the 
Year  of  Deliverance,  1689,  is  the  time  of  writing. 

"  I,  Harry  Wedderburn,  of  Black  Craig  of  Dee,  in  the 
country  of  Galloway,  acknowledging  the  mercies  of  God, 
and  repenting  of  my  sins,  set  these  things  down  in  my 
own  hand  of  write.  Sorrow  and  shame  are  in  my  heart 
that  my  sun  was  so  high  in  the  heavens  before  I  turned 
me  from  evil  to  seek  after  good. 

"  We  were  a  wild  and  f roward  set  in  those  days  in  the 
backlands  of  the  Kells.  It  was  not  long,  indeed,  since 
the  coming  of  a  law  stronger  than  that  of  the  Strong 
Hand.  Our  fathers  had  driven  the  cattle  from  the  Eng- 
lish border  —  yea,  even  out  of  the  fat  fields  of  ISTiddis- 
dale,  and  over  the  flowe  of  Solway.  And  if  a  man  were 
offended  with  another,  he  went  his  straightest  way  home 
and  took  gun  and  whinger  to  lie  in  wait  for  his  enemy. 
Or  he  met  him  foot  to  foot  with  quarter-staff  on  the 
highway,  if  he  were  of  ungentle  heart  and  possessed 
neither  pistol  nor  musketoon. 

"  I  mind  well  that  year  1636,  more  than  fifty  years 
bygone  —  I  being  then  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  my 
age,  a  runagate  castaway  loon,  without  God  and  without 
hope  in  the  world.  My  father  had  been  in  his  day  a 
douce  sober  man,  yet  he  could  do  little  to  restrain  myself 
or  my  brother  John,  who  was,  they  said,  '  ten  waurs ' 
than  I.     For  there  was  a  wild  set  in  the  Glen  of  Kells 


SEED   sown    BY   THE    WAYSIDE         210 

in  those  days,  Lidderdale  of  Slogarie  and   R  Raif 

Pringle  of  Kirkchri  ag  enough  to  poison  a  parish. 

We  four  used  to  forgather  to  drink  the  dark  out  and 
li.LTiit  in,  two  or  three  times  in  the  week,  at  the  change 
house  of  the  Clachan.     Elspeth  Vogie  keeped  it  and  no 
good  name  it  got  among  those  well-affected  to  religion 
—  aye,  or  Elspeth  herself  cither. 

••  But  these  are  vain  thoughts,  and  I  have  had  of  a 
long  season  no  pleasure  in  them.  Yet  will  I  not  deny 
that  Elspeth  Vogie,  though  in  some  things  sore  left  to 
herself,  was  a  hoartsoine  quean  and  well-favoured  of  her 
person. 

"So  at  Elspeth's  some  half-dozen  of  us  were  drinking 
down  the  short  dark  hours  of  an  August  night.  It  was 
now  the  lull  between  the  hay-winning  and  the  corn-shear- 
ing. For  hairst  was  late  that  year,  and  the  weather  mostly 
backward  and  dour.  There  had  come,  however,  with  the 
advent  of  the  new  month,  a  warm  drowsy  spell  of  wind- 
less days,  the  sun  shining  from  morn  to  even  through  a 
kind  of  unwholesome  mist,  and  the  corn  standing  on 
the  knowes  with  as  little  motion  as  the  gray  whinstane 
tourocks  and  granite  cairns  on  the  hilltaps.  The  farm- 
ers and  cottiers  looked  at  their  scanty  roods  of  plough- 
land,  and  prayed  for  a  rousing  Avind  from  the  Lord  to 
winnow  away  the  still  dead  easterly  mist,  and  gar  the 
corn  reestle  ear  against  ear  so  that  it  might  fill  and  ripen 
for  the  ingathering. 

"  But  we  that  were  hand-fasted  to  sin  and  bonded  to 
iniquity,  young  plants  of  wrath,  ill-doers  and  forlorn  of 
grace,  eared  as  little  for  the  backward  year  as  we  did 
for  the  sad  state  of  Scotland  and  the  strifes  that  were 
quickly  coming  upon  that   land.     So  long  as  our   pint- 


220  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

stoup  was  filled,  and  plack  rattled  on  plack  in  the  pouch, 
sorrow  the  crack  of  the  thumb  we  cared  for  harvest  or 
sheep-shearing,  king  or  bishop,  Bible  or  incense-pot. 

"  To  us  sitting  thus  on  the  Sabbath  morning  (when  it 
had  better  set  us  to  have  been  sleeping  in  our  naked 
beds)  there  came  in  one  Rab  Aitkin  of  Aachengask, 
likeminded  with  us.  Eab  was  seeking  his  ' morning'  or 
eye-opening  draught  of  French  brandy,  and  to  us  bleared 
and  leaden-eyed  roisterers,  he  seemed  to  come  fresh  as 
the  dew  on  the  white  thorn  in  the  front  of  May.  For  he 
had  a  clean  sark  upon  him,  a  lace  ruffle  about  his  neck, 
and  his  hair  was  still  wet  with  the  good  well  water  in 
which  he  had  lately  washen  himself. 

"  '  Whither  away,  Rab  ?  '  we  cried  ;  '  is  it  to  visit  fair 
Meg  o'  the  Glen  so  early  i'  the  morn  in'  ? ' 

" '  He  is  on  his  way  to  holy  kirk  ! '  cried  another, 
daffingly. 

" '  If  so  —  'tis  to  stand  all  day  on  the  stool  of  re- 
pentance ! '  declared  another.  Then  in  the  precentor's 
whining  voice  he  added :  '  Robert  Aitkin,  deleted  and 
discerned  to  compear  at  both  diets  of  worship  for  the 
heinous  crime  of  —  and  so  forth  ! '  This  was  an  excel- 
lent imitation  of  the  official  method  of  summoning  a 
culprit  to  stand  his  rebuke.  It  was  Patie  Robb  of 
Ironmannoch  who  said  this.  And  this  same  Patie  had 
had  the  best  opportunities  for  perfecting  himself  in  the 
exercise,  having  stood  the  Session  and  received  the  open 
rebuke  on  three  several  occasions — two  of  them  in  one 
twelve-month,  which  is  counted  a  shame  even  among 
shameless  men. 

" '  No,  Patie,'  said  Rab  in  answer,  '  I  am  indeed  head- 
ing for  the  kirk,  but  on  no  siccan  gowk's  errand  as  takes 


ED   SOW  S    \>V    THE    WAYSIDE  32J 

you  there  bwice  in  the  year,  my  man.  ■  :,.eur  tho 

Gospel  preached.  For  there  is  to  be  a  straugex  i 
the  south  shore  at  the  Kirk  of  Kells  this  day,  and  tl 
say  he  has  a  mighty  power  of  words ;  and  though  ye 
scoff  and  make  light  o'  me,  I  care  not.  !  am  neither 
kirk-goer  nor  kirk-lover,  ye  say.  True,  but  there  is  a 
whisper  in  my  heart  that  sends  me  there  this  day.  I 
thank  ye,  bonny  mistress  ! " 

"He  took  the  pint-stoup,  and  with  a  bow  of  his  head 
and  an  inclination  of  his  body,  he  did  his  service  to 
Mistress  Elspeth.  For  that  lady,  looking  fresh  as  him- 
self, had  just  come  forth  from  her  chamber  to  relieve 
Jean  McCalmont,  who,  poor  thing,  had  been  going  to 
sleep  on  her  feet  for  man y  weary  hours. 

"Then  Roaring  Eaif  Pringle  cried  out,  'Lads,  we 
will  a'  gang.  I  had  news  yestreen  of  this  ploy.  The 
new  Bishop,  good  luck  to  him,  has  outed  another  of  the 
high-flying,  prating  cushion-threshers.  This  man  goes 
to  Edinburgh  to  be  tried  before  his  betters.  He  is  to 
preach  in  Kells  this  very  morn  on  the  bygoing,  for  the 
minister  thereof  is  likeminded  with  himself.  We  will 
all  gang,  and  if  he  gets  a  hearin'  for  his  rebel's  cant  — 
why,  lads,  you  are  not  the  men  I  tak'  you  for ! ' 

"  So  they  cried  out, '  Weel  said,  Roaring  Rail' !  '  and  got 
them  ready  to  go  as  best  they  could.  For  some  were  red 
of  face  and  some  were  ringed  of  eye,  and  all  were 
touched  with  a  kind  of  disgust  for  the  roisterous  spirit 
of  the  night.  But  a  dabble  in  the  chill  water  of  the 
spring  and  a  rub  of  the  rough-spun  towel  brought  us 
mostly  to  some  decent  presentableness.  For  youth 
easily  recovers  itself  while  it  lasts,  though  in  the  latter 
end  it  pays  for  such  things  twice  over. 


222  THE   LITTLE   FAIK  MAN 

"  We  partook  of  as  mickle  breakfast  as  we  could  man- 
age, and  that  was  no  great  thing  after  such  a  night. 
But  we  each  drank  down  a  stirrup-cup  and  with  various 
good-speeds  to  Elspeth  Vogie  and  Jean  her  maid,  we  wan 
to  horseback  and  so  down  the  strath  to  the  Kirk  of 
Kells.  It  sits  on  the  summit  of  a  little  knowe  with  the 
whin  golden  about  it  at  all  times  of  the  year,  and  the 
loch  like  a  painted  sheeij  spread  below. 

"  We  could  see  the  folk  come  flocking  from  far  and 
near,  from  their  mailings  and  forty-shilling  lands,  their 
farm-towns  and  cothouses  in  half-a-dozen  parishes. 

"  '  We  are  in  luck's  way,  lads,'  cried  Liddsrdale,  called 
Ten-tass  Lidderdale  because  he  could  drink  that  number 
of  stoups  of  brandy  neat;  'it  is  a  great  gathering  of  the 
godly.  Lads,  the  shutting  of  this  man's  mouth  will 
make  such  a  din  as  will  be  heard  of  through  all  Gallo- 
way ! ' 

"  And  so  to  our  shame  and  my  sorrow  we  made  it  up. 
We  were  to  go  the  rounds  of  the  meeting,  and  gather 
together  all  the  likely  lads  who  wovdd  stand  with  us. 
There  were  sure  to  be  plenty  such  who  had  no  goodwill 
to  preachings.  And  with  these  in  one  place  we  could 
easily  shut  the  mouth  of  this  fanatic  railer  against  law 
and  order.  For  so  in  our  ignorance  and  folly  we  called 
him.  Because  all  this  sort  (such  as  I  myself  was  then) 
hated  the  very  name  of  religion,  and  hoped  to  find  things 
easier  and  better  for  them  when  the  king  should  have 
his  way,  and  when  the  bishops  would  present  none  to 
parishes  but  what  we  called  '  good  fellows '  —  by  which 
we  meant  men  as  careless  of  principle  as  ourselves  — 
loose-livers  and  oath-swearers,  such  as  in  truth  they 
mostly  were  themselves. 


SEED   sown    i:v   THE    WAYSIDE         228 

"But  when  we  arrivod  thai     \  morning  at  the 

Kirk  of  Hells,  Lol  there  before  us  was  outspread  such  a 
sight  as  m  never  beheld.     The  Kirk  Knowe  was 

ly  black  with  folk.     A  little  £  you  could 

them  pouring  inward  in  bands  like  the  spokes  of  a  wh  ''-1. 
Further  off  yet,  Mack  dots  straggled  down  hillsides,  or 
up  thro  'ens,  disentangling  themselves  iron;  clumps 

of  birches  and  scurry  thorns  for  all  the  world  like  the 
ants  of  the  wise  king  gathering  home  from  their  travels. 

"Then  we  were  veiy  well  content  and  made  it  our 
business  to  go  among  the  gay  young  blades  who  had 
come  for  the  excite:  ir,  as  it  might  be,  because  all 

the  pretty  lasses  of  the  country-side  were  sure  to  be 
there  in  their  best.  And  with  them  we  arranged  that 
we  should  keep  silence  till  the  fanatic  minister  was  well 
under  way  with  his  treasonable  paries.  Then  we  would 
rush  in  with  our  swords  drawn,  carry  him  off  down  the 
steep  and  cluck  him  for  a  traitorous  loon  in  the  loch 
beneath. 

"To  this  we  all  assented  and  shook  hands  upon  the 
pact.  For  we  knew  right  sickerly  what  would  be  our 
fate,  if  in  the  battle  which  was  coming  on  the  land,  the 
Covenant  men  won  the  day.  Perforce  we  must  subscribe 
to  deeds  and  religious  engagements,  attend  kirks  twice  a 
day,  lay  aside  gay  colours,  forswear  ail  pleasant  daffing 
with  such  as  Elspeth  Vogie  and  Jean  her  maid  (not  that 
there  was  anything  wrong  in  my  own  practice  with  such 
—  I  speak  only  of  others).  The  merry  clatter  of  dice 
woidd  be  heard  no  more.  The  cartes  themselves,  the 
knowledge  of  which  then  made  the  gentleman,  would  be 
looked  upon  as  the  '  deil's  picture-books.'  A  good  broad 
oath  would  mean  a  fine  as  broad.     Instead  of  chanting 


224  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAitf 

loose  catches  we  should  have  to  listen  to  sermons  five 
hours  long,  and  be  whipt  for  all  the  little  pleasing  trans- 
gressions that  made  life  worth  living. 

"So  'Hush,'  we  said  —  'we  will  salt  this  preacher's 
kail  for  him.  We  will  drill  him,  wand-hand  and  work- 
ing-hand, so  that  he  cannot  stir.  We  will  make  him 
drink  his  fill  of  Kells  Loch  this  day ! ' 

"  All  this  while  we  knew  not  so  much  as  the  name  of 
the  preacher  —  nor,  indeed,  cared.  He  came  from  the 
south,  so  much  we  knew,  and  he  had  a  great  repute  for 
godliness  and  what  the  broad-bonnets  called  'faithful- 
ness,' which,  being  interpreted,  signified  that  he  con- 
demned the  king  and  the  bishops,  and  held  to  the  old 
dull  figments  about  doctrine,  free  grace,  and  the  author- 
ity of  Holy  Kirk. 

"  The  man  had  not  ■  arrived  when  we  reached  the  Kirk 
of  Kells.  Indeed,  it  was  not  long  before  the  hour  of  ser- 
vice when  up  the  lochside  we  saw  a  cavalcade  approach. 
Then  we  were  angry.  For,  as  we  said,  '  This  spoils  our 
sport.  These  are  doubtless  soldiers  of  the  king  who 
have  been  sent  to  put  a  stop  to  the  meeting.  We  shall 
have  no  chance  this  clay.  Our  coin  is  spun  and  fallen 
edgewise  between  the  stones.     Let  us  go  home ! ' 

"  But  I  said :  '  There  may  be  some  spirity  work  for  all 
that,  lads.     Better  bide  and  see ! ' 

"  So  they  abode  according  to  my  word. 

"But  when  they  came  near  we  could  see  that  these 
were  no  soldiers  of  the  king,  nor,  indeed,  any  soldiers  at 
all,  though  the  men  were  armed  with  whingers  and  pis- 
tolets,  and  rode  upon  strong  slow-footed  horses  like 
farmers  going  to  market.  There  was  a  gentleman  at 
the  head  of  them,  very  tall  and  stout,  whom  Roaring 


SEED   SOWN    BY   THE    WAYSIDE 

Raif,  in  an  undertone,  pointed  out  as  Gordon  of  Earl- 
stoun,  and  in  the  midst,  the  centre  of  bhe  company  rode 
a  little  fair  man,  shilpit  and  delicate,  whom  -.ill  deferred 
to,  clad  in  black  like  a  minister.  He  rode  a  loi retailed 
sheltie  like  one  well  accustomed  to  the  exercise  and  bore 
about  with  him  the  die-stamp  of  a  gentleman. 

"  This  was  the  preacher,  and  these  other  riders  w* 
mostly  his  parishioners,  come  to  convoy  him  through  the 
dangerous  and  ill-affected  districts  to  the  great  Popish 
and  Prelatic  city  of  Aberdeen,  where  for  the  time  bein.: 
he  was  to  be  interned. 

"Then  Roaring  Raif  whispered  amongst  us  that  we 
had  better  have  our  swords  easy  in  the  sheath  and  our 
pistols  primed,  for  that  these  men  in  the  hodden  gray 
would  certainly  fight  briskly  for  their  minister. 

"  '  Gordon  of  Cardoness  is  there  also,'  he  said,  '  a  stout 
angry  carle.  Him  in  the  drab  is  Muckle  Ninian  Mure  of 
Cassencarry.  Beyond  is  Ugly  Peter  of  Rusco,  and 
that's  Bailie  Fullerton  o*  Kirkcudbright,  the  man  wi'  the 
wame  swaggin'  and  the  bell-mouthed  musket  across  his 
saddle-bow.  There  will  be  a  rare  tulzie,  lads.  This  is 
indeed  worth  leavin'  Elspeth's  fireside  for.  We  will  let 
oot  some  true  blue  Covenant  bluid  this  holy  day ! ' 

"And  when  the  Little  Fair  Man  dismounted  there  was 
a  rush  of  the  folk  and  some  deray.  But  we  of  the  other 
faction  kept  in  the  back  part  and  bided  our  time. 

"  Then  the  Little  Fair  Man  went  up  into  the  pulpit, 
which  was  a  box  on  great  broad,  creaking,  ungreased 
wheels,  which  they  had  brought  out  from  the  burial  tool- 
house  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  the  mighty  concourse 
could  in  nowise  be  contained  in  the  kirk  —  no,  not  so 
much  as  a  tenth  part  of  them  '. 


226  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAX 

"After  that  there  was  a  great  hush  which  lasted  at 
least  a  minute  as  the  minister  kneeled  down  with  his 
head  in  his  hands.  Then  at  last  he  rose  up  and  gave  out 
the  psalm  to  be  sung.  It  was  the  one  about  the  Israel- 
ites hanging  their  harps  on  the  trees  of  Babylon.  And 
I  mind  that  he  prefaced  it  with  several  pithy  sayings 
which  I  remembered  long  afterwards,  though  I  paid  lit- 
tle heed  to  them  at  the  time.  '  This  tree  of  Babylon  is 
a  strange  plant,'  he  said ;  '  it  grows  only  in  those  back- 
sides of  deserts  where  Moses  found  it,  or  by  Babel 
streams  where  men  walk  in  sorrow  and  exile.  It  is  an 
ever-burning  bush,  yet  no  man  hath  seen  the  ashes 
of  it.' 

"Then  the  people  sang  with  a  great  voice,  far-swelling, 
triumphant,  and  the  Little  Fair  Man  led  them  in  a  kind 
of  ecstasy.  I  do  not  mind  much  about  his  prayer.  I 
was  no  judge  of  prayers  in  those  days.  All  I  cared 
about  them  was  that  they  should  not  be  too  long  and  so 
keep  me  standing  in  one  position.  But  I  can  recall  of 
him  that  he  inclined  his  face  all  the  time  he  was  speak- 
ing towards  the  sk}-,  as  if  Some  One  Up  There  had  been 
looking  down  upon  him.  At  that  I  looked  also,  follow- 
ing the  direction  of  his  eyes.  And  so  did  several  others, 
but  could  see  nothing.  But  I  think  it  was  not  so  with 
the  Little  Fair  Man. 

"  Now  it  was  not  till  the  sermon  was  well  begun  that 
we  were  to  break  in  and  '  skail '  the  conventicle  with  our 
swords  in  our  hands.  I  could  hear  Lidderdale  behind 
me  murmuring,  '  How  much  longer  are  we  to  listen  to 
this  treason-monger  ? ' 

" '  Let  us  give  him  five  minutes  by  the  watch,  lads  ! ' 
I  said,  'the  same  as  a  man  that  is  to  be  hanged   hath 


SEED   SOWN    i:V    THE    WAVSi.  227 

before  the  topsinan  turns  him  off.     And  after  that  I  am 
with  you.' 
"Then  Roaring  Raif  said  in  my  car,  '  We  have  them 

in  the  hollow  of  our  hand.       This  will  be  a  gr<  j   in 

the  Kills.     We  will  pu1   the  broad  bonnets  to  rout,  so 

it  no  one  of  them  after  this  shall  be  able  to  show  fact; 
upon  the  causeway  of  Dumfries.  There  are  at  least  fifty 
sh  lads,  good  hones!  swearing  blades,  in  and  about 
the  kirkyard  of  Kells  this  day  ! ' 

"  For  even  so  we  delighted  to  call  ourselves  in  our 
ignorance  and  headstrong  folly — as  the  Buik  sayeth. 
glorying  in  our  shame. 

"  And  according  to  my  word  we  waited  five  minutes  on 
the  minister.  He  had  that  day  a  text  that  I  will  always 
mind, '  God  is  our  refuge  and  our  strength,'  from  the  46th 
Psalm  —  one  that  was  ever  afterwards  a  great  fa vonrite 
with  me.  And  when  at  first  he  began,  I  thought  not 
muckle  about  what  he  said,  but  only  of  the  great  ploy 
and  bloody  fray  that  was  before  me.  For  we  rejoiced  in 
suchlike,  and  called  it  among  ourselves  a  'bloodletting 
of  the  whey-faced  knaves ! ' 

'•  Then  the  Little  Fair  Man  began  to  warm  to  his  work, 
and  just  when  the  five  minutes  drew  on  to  their  end,  he 
was  telling  of  a  certain  Friend  that  he  had,  One  that 
loved  him  and  had  been  constantly  with  him  for  years  — 
so  that  his  married  wife  was  not  so  near  and  dear.  This 
Friend  had  delivered  him.  he  said,  from  perils  of  great 
waters  and  from  the  edge  of  the  sword.  He  had  also 
put  up  with  all  the  evil  things  he  had  done  to  Him. 
Ofttimes  he  had  cast  this  Friend  off  and  buffeted  Him, 
but  even  then  He  would  not  go  away  from  him  or  leave 
him  desolate. 


228  THE    LITTLE   FA1K    MAN 

"  So,  as  I  had  never  heard  of  such  strange  friendship, 
I  was  in  a  great  sweat  to  find  out  who  this  Friend  might 
be,  so  different  from  the  comrades  I  knew,  who  drew 
their  swords  at  a  word  and  gave  buffet  for  buffet  as 
quick  as  drawing  a  breath. 

"  So  I  whispered  again,  l  Give  him  another  five 
minutes ! ' 

"  And  I  could  hear  them  growl  behind  me,  Tarn  Morra 
of  the  Shields,  called  Partan-face  Tarn,  Glaikit  Gib 
Morrison,  and  the  others  —  'What  for  are  ye  waitin'? 
Let  the  gray-breeks  hae  it  noo ! ' 

"  But  since  I  was  by  much  the  strongest  there,  and  in 
a  manner  the  leader,  they  did  not  dare  to  counter  me, 
fearing  that  I  might  give  them  '  strength-o'-airm '  as  I 
did  once  in  the  vennel  of  Dumfries  to  Matthew  Aird  when 
he  withstood  me  in  the  matter  of  Bonny  Betty  Coupland 
—  a  rencontre  which  was  little  to  my  credit  from  any 
point  of  view. 

"  And  then  the  Little  Pair  Man  threw  himself  into  a 
rapture  like  a  man  going  out  of  the  body,  and  his  voice 
sounded  somehow  uncanny  and  of  the  other  world.  For 
there  was  a  '  scraich'  in  it  like  the  snow-wind  among  the 
naked  trees  of  the  wood  at  midnight.  Yet  for  all  it  was 
not  unpleasant,  but  only  eerie  and  very  affecting  to  the 
heart. 

"  He  told  us  how  that  he  had  shamed  and  grieved  his 
Friend,  how  he  had  oftentimes  wounded  Him  sore,  and 
once  even  crucified  Him 

"  Then  when  he  said  that  I  knew  what  the  man  was 
driving  at,  and  if  I  had  been  left  to  myself  I  would  have 
fallen  away  and  thought  no  more  of  the  matter.  But  at 
that  moment,  with  a  sudden  calm,  there  fell  a  hush  over 


SEED   SOWN    BY    THE    WAYSIDE  229 

the  people.     They  seemed  to  be  waiting  Cor  somethii 

Then  the  Little  Fair  Man  leaned  nut  of  the  pulpit  and 
stretched  his  arm  towards  me,  where  I  stood  like  Saul, 
taller  by  a  head  than  any  about  me. 

'"  There  is  a  great  strong  young  man  there,'  he  said, 
'standing  by  the  pillar,  that  hitherto  has  used  his 
strength  for  the  service  of  the  devil,  but  from  this  for- 
ward he  shall  use  it  for  the  Lord.  a  now  he  is 
plotting  mischief.  He,  too,  hath  wounded  my  Friend, 
even  Jesus  Christ,  and  smitten  Him  on  the  cheekbone. 
Hut  to-day  he  shall  stand  in  the  breach  and  fight  for 
Eim.     Young  man,   I    bid  yon  come  forward!' 

••  Ami  with  that  he  continued,  pointing  at  me  with  his 
finger  a  little  crooked.  At  first  I  was  angry,  and  could 
have  made  his  chafts  ring  with  my  neive  had  I  been 
near  enough.  But  presently  something  uprose  in  my 
heart  —  great,  and  terrible,  and  melting  all  at  once.  I 
took  a  step  forward.  But  my  companions  held  me  back. 
1  could  feel  Lidderdale  and  Roaring  Raif  with  each  a 
hand  on  a  coat  tail. 

'•'Harry,'  they  said,  'do  not  mind  him  —  cry  the  word 
and  we  will  fall  on  and  pull  the  wizard  down  by  the 
heels! ' 

"  'Come  hither  ! '  said  the  Little  Fair  Man  again,  in  a 
stronger  voice  of  command.  'Come  up  hither,  friend. 
Thou  didst  come  to  this  place  to  do  evil;  but  the  Spirit 
hath  thee  now  by  the  head,  though  well  do  I  see  that  a 
pair  of  black  deils  have  thee  yet  by  the  tail.  Come 
hither,  friend,  resist  not  the  Spirit !  ' 

"  Then  there  arose  a  mighty  flame  in  my  heart,  the 
like  of  which  I  never  felt  before.  It  was  a  very  gale  of 
the  Spirit  —  a  breaking  down  of  dams  that  imprisoned 


230  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

waters  might  flow  free.  And  before  I  knew  what  I  did 
I  took  iny  hand  and  dealt  a  buffet  right  and  left,  so  that 
Roaring  Raif  roared  amain.  And  as  for  Jock  Lidder- 
dale,  I  know  not  what  became  of  him,  for  they  carried 
him  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  and  laid  him  under  a 
tree  to  come  to  himself  again. 

" l  Thou  shalt  know  a  Friend  to-day,  young  man,'  the 
minister  said,  when,  being  thus  enlarged,  I  came  near. 
'  Thou  shall  be  the  firstfruits  to  the  Lord  in  the  Kells 
this  day.  There  is  to  be  a  great  ingathering  of  sheaves 
here,  though  some  of  them  shall  yet  have  bloody  shocks. 
But  thou,  young  sir,  shalt  be  the  first  of  all  and  shalt 
stand  the  longest ! ' 

"Then  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  there  arose  a 
mighty  turmoil.  For  all  those  that  had  been  of  my 
party  made  a  rush  forward,  that  they  might  rescue  me 
from  what  they  thought  was  rank  witchcraft. 

" '  Overturn !  Overturn  ! '  they  cried.  '  Ding  doon  the 
wizard  !  He  hath  bewitched  "  Harry  Strength-o'-Airm  " ! 
Fight,  Harry  —  for  thine  own  hand,  and  we  will  rescue 
thee ! ' 

"And  so  ardent  was  their  onset  that  they  had  well- 
nigh  opened  a  way  to  where  the  Little  Fair  Man  stood, 
as  unmoved  and  smiling  as  if  he  had  been  sitting  in  his 
own  manse.  So  great  became  the  crowd  that  the  very 
preaching-box  rocked.  The  men  of  the  cavalcade  drew 
their  swords  and  met  the  assailants  hand  to  hand.  In 
another  minute  there  had  been  bloodshed. 

"  But  by  some  strange  providence  there  came  into  my 
hand  the  pole  of  a  burying  bier,  whereon  men  bear  coffins 
to  the  kirkyard.  I  know  not  how  it  came  there,  unless, 
peradventure,  they  had  used  it  to  roll  out  the  preaching- 


SEED   SOWN    BY   THE    WAYSIDE         231 

box.     But,  in  any  case,  it  made  a  goodly  and  gruesome 
weapon. 

"  Then  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  me,  and  I 
shouted  aloud:  'I  am  on  the  Little  Fair  Man's  side  — 
and  on  the  side  of  his  Friend !     Peace  !     Peace  ! ' 

"And  with  that  1  laid  about  me  as  the  Lord  gave  me 
strength,  and  I  heard  more  than  one  sword  snap,  and  more 
than  one  head  crack. 

"Then,  again,  1  cried  louder  than  before:  'Let  there 
be  peace  —  and  God  help  ye  if  ye  come  in  Harry  Wed- 
derburn's  road  this  day  —  all  ye  that  are  set  on  mis- 
chief ! ' 

"  And  lo  !  by  means  of  the  bier-pole,  a  way  was  opened, 
a  large  a.nd  an  effectual,  before  me;  and,  like  Samson,  I 
smote  and  smote,  and  stayed  not,  till  I  was  weary.  For 
none  could  stand  against  me,  and  such  as  could,  ran  out 
to  their  horses.  But  the  most  part  of  them,  I,  with  my 
grave-pole,  caused  to  remain  —  that  they,  too,  might  be 
turned  to  the  Lord  by  the  "Word  of  the  preacher. 

"  So  they  came  back,  and  I  bade  the  Little  Fair  Man 
preach  to  them,  while  I  kept  guard.  And  at  that  he 
smiled  and  said  :  '  Did  I  not  say  that  thou  also  shouldst 
be  a  soldier  of  God?  Thine  arm  this  day  hath  been  in- 
deed an  arm  of  flesh.  But  thou  shalt  yet  wield  in  thy 
time  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  word  of  God  !' 
And  of  a  truth,  there  was  a  great  work  and  an  effectual 
that  day  in  the  Kells.  For  they  say  that  more  than  four 
score  turned  them  from  their  evil  way,  and  many  of  these 
blessed  me  thereafter  for  the  breaking  of  their  heads  — 
yes,  even  upon  their  dying  beds. 

"  Now  I  have  myself  backslidden  since  that,  but  have 
not  altogether  fallen  away  or  shamed  my  first  love.     And 


232  THE  LITTLE  FAIR   MAN 

when  the  cavalcade  rode  away  up  the  muir  road,  I  heard 
them  tell  that  the  Little  Fair  Man,  who  had  called  me 
out  of  my  heady  folly,  was  no  other  than  the  famous  Mr. 
Samuel  Rutherfurd,  minister  of  Anwoth,  on  his  way  to 
his  place  of  exile  in  Aberdeen,  for  conscience'  sake. 

"That  these  things  are  verity  I  vouch  for  with  my 
soul.  The  truth  is  thus,  neither  less  nor  more.  Which 
is  the  testimony  of  me,  Harry  Wedderburn,  written  in 
this  year  of  Grace  and  a  freed  Israel,  1689." 


THE    LITTLE    FAIR   MAN 

II.  —  The  Humbling  of  Strength-o'-Airm 

(The  continuation  of  the  Adventure  of  Mr.  Hurry  Wedderburn, 
called  "Strength-o'-Airm"  written  by  himself,  and  transcribed  by 
Alexander  McQuhirr,  A/.D.) 

"All  this  fell  out  exceeding  well,  and  the  fact  was 
much  bruited  abroad  throughout  all  the  south-land  of 
Galloway,  how  that  with  the  tram  of  a  bier  I  convert  it 
thirty-three  men,  in  and  about  the  kirkyaird  of  Kells,  in 
one  day.  But  (what  was  not  so  good)  the  first  man  that 
I  brak  the  head  of  was  Roaring  Raif  Pringle  of  Kirk- 
christ  —  and  I  was  engaged  in  the  bands  of  affection 
with  his  sister  Rachel,  expecting  indeed  to  wed  her  with 
the  first  falling  of  the  leaf. 

"Now  Roaring  Raif  was  so  worshipfully  smitten  on 
the  pate,  that  before  he  could  sit  up  to  hearken  to  the 
voice  of  the  Little  Fair  Man,  Mr.  Rutherfurd  had  ridden 
northwards  on  his  way  and  all  his  folk  with  him.  Now 
when  at  last  Raif  sat  up  and  drew  his  hand  across  his 
brow  he  asked  who  had  done  this,  and  when  they  told 
him  that  it  was  his  friend  Harr}*  Wedderburn  cf  the 
Black  Craig  "who  had  broke  his  own  familiar  head  with 
the  tram  of  the  dead-bier,  who  but  Raif  Pringle  was  a 
wild  man,  and  swore  in  his  unhallowed  wrath  to  shoot 
ine  if  ever  I  came  anigh  the  house  of  Kirkchrist,  eith< 
to  see  his  sister  or  for  any  other  purpose ! 

233 


234  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

"  Now  I  was  not  anxious  about  Rachel  herself.  I 
knew  that  when  it  came  to  the  point,  she  cared  not  a 
doit  either  for  Roaring  Raif  or  for  Slee  Tod  Pringle, 
her  cunning  father.  She  was  a  fell  clever  lass,  and  had 
always  been  a  great  toast  among  us — though  continually 
urging  me  to  forswear  sitting  drinking  at  the  wine  with 
wild  runagates  in  public  places  and  change  houses,  if  I 
hoped  to  stand  well  in  her  favour.  But  once,  having 
been  with  her  and  Roaring  Raif  at  Dumfries,  it  was  my 
good  fortune  to  carry  her  across  the  ford  at  Holywood 
when  Nith  Water  was  rising  fast,  and  since  that  day 
somehow  she  had  always  thought  better  than  well  of 
me.  For  we  left  the  Roaring  One  on  the  Dumfries 
shore. 

" '  I  will  go  over  and  bring  him  hither  on  my  back,' 
said  I.  And  would  have  plunged  in  again  to  do  it.  For 
I  thought  nothing  of  perils  of  waters,  being  tall  and  a 
good  swimmer  to  boot.  But  this  Rachel  would  in  no 
wise  permit.  She  caught  me  by  the  arm  and  would  not 
let  me  go  back. 

"  <  'Deed  will  you  do  somewhat  less,  Harry  Wedder- 
burn ;  if  Raif  thinks  so  little  of  his  sister  as  to  convoy 
her  home  disguised  in  liquor,  e'en  let  him  stand  there 
on  the  shore,  or  else  take  his  way  home  by  the  Brig  of 
Dumfries ! ' 

"  And  this  I  was  very  content  to  do,  delivering  Rachel 
into  the  hands  of  her  uncle,  Lancelot  Pringle  of  Quarrel- 
wood,  in  due  time  —  but  a  longer  time  mayhap  than  in 
ordinary  circumstances  it  takes  to  traverse  the  distance 
between  the  fords  of  Holywood  over  against  Netherholm 
and  the  mansion  house  of  Quarrelwood.  For  the  pleas- 
ure that  I  had  in  carrying  of  Rachel  Pringle  through  the 


HUMBLING    OF   STRENGTH-O'-A  !  KM      236 

water  had  gone  to  my  head  some  little,  and  I  wa 
haps  not  so  clear  about  my  way  as  I  might  have  been. 

"So,  minding  me  on  that  heartsome  and  memorable 
night,  together  with  other  things  more  recent,  I  was 
not  perhaps  very  anxious  about  the  affection  of  Rachel 
Pringle.  For  I  thought  that  it  would  take  more  than  the 
word  of  Roaring  Raif  to  change  the  heart  of  that  little 
Rachel  whom  I  had  carried  in  my  arms  over  the  swellings 
of  Nitli  Water.  I  minded  me  how  tight  she  had  held 
to  me,  and  howr,  when  we  got  over,  she  whispered  in  my 
ear,  before  I  set  her  down,  '  Harrjr,  I  like  strong  men ! ' 
Which  saying  somewhat  delayed  my  putting  of  her 
down,  for  the  ground  grew  exceedingly  boggy  and 
unstable  just  at  that  spot. 

"  So,  on  the  evening  of  the  day  after  I  had  forsaken 
my  ill  courses  at  the  bidding  of  the  Little  Fair  Man,  I 
set  out  from  the  onsteading  of  Black  Craig  of  Dee,  leav- 
ing all  there  in  the  keeping  of  my  brother  John,  a  stark 
upstanding  lad,  and  in  those  of  Gilbert  Grier,  my  chief 
hired  herd.  I  told  them  not  where  I  was  going,  but  I 
think  they  knew  well  enough.  For  John  brought  me 
my  father's  broadsword,  which  he  had  sharpened,  instead 
of  my  own  smaller  whinger,  and  Gib  the  herd  took  the 
pistols  out  of  my  belt  and  saw  to  their  priming  anew. 
They  were  always  very  loyal  and  sib  to  my  heart,  these 
two,  and  sped  me  on  my  love  adventures  without  a 
word. 

"  Now  the  turn  or  twist  that  I  gat  at  the  outdoor  ser- 
vice before  the  Kirk  of  Kells  was  strange  enough.  It 
may  seem  that  the  conduct  of  a  man  can  only  be  turned 
by  the  application  of  reason  or  argument.  But  it  was 
not  so  with  me.     The  Little  Fair  Man  crooked  his  finger 


236  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

and  said :  '  Come ! '  and  I  came.  So  also  was  it  with  the 
others  who  were  convertit  that  day,  aided  maybe  some- 
what by  my  black  quarter-staff.  But  I  have  since  read 
in  the  Book  that  even  so  did  Mr.  Butherfurd's  Friend, 
when  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  He  called  to  Him  His  dis- 
ciples. '  Come ! '  He  said  to  the  fishermen,  and  forth- 
with they  left  all  and  followed  Him. 

"  Now  my  call  did  not  cause  me  to  follow  the  Little 
Fair  Man.  It  was  not  of  such  a  sort.  He  did  not  bid 
me  to  that  of  it.  But  those  who  have  been  my  neigh- 
bours will  bear  me  witness  that  I  never  was  the  same 
man  again,  but  through  many  shortcomings  and  much 
warring  of  the  flesh  against  the  spirit,  have  ever  sought 
after  better  things,  during  all  the  fifty-and-one  years 
since  that  day. 

"  So  out  I  set  on  my  road  to  Kirkchrist  with  a  rose 
in  my  coat,  the  covenanted  work  of  reformation  in  my 
heart  —  and  my  pistols  primed.  I  knew  it  would  need 
all  three  to  win  bonny  Bachel  Pringle  out  of  the  hand 
of  the  Slee  Tod  and  his  son  Baif,  the  Boaring  One. 

"Now  Kirkchrist  is  one  of  the  farm-towns  of  Gallo- 
way, many  of  which  in  the  old  days  have  been  set  like 
fortalices  high  on  every  defenced  hill.  Indeed,  the 
ancient  tower  still  stands  at  one  angle  of  the  square  of 
houses,  where  it  is  used  for  a  peat-shed.  But  by  an  out- 
side stair  it  is  possible  to  get  on  the  roof  and  view  the 
country  for  miles  round.  On  one  side  the  Cooran  burn 
runs  down  a  deep  ravine  full  of  hazel  copses  feathering 
to  the  meadow-edges,  where  big  bumblebees  have  their 
bykes,  and  where  I  first  courted  Bachel,  sitting  behind  a 
cole  of  hay  on  the  great  day  of  the  meadow  ingathering. 
On  the  other  three  sides  the  approach  to  Kirkchrist  is  as 


HUMBLING    0¥   STEENGTH-O    LIBM      287 

bare  as  the  <■  dm  of  ray  hand,  all  short  spring]  turf,  with 
not  so  much  a     ad  lisy  on  it,  -razed  over  by  Slee  Tod's 
sheep,  and  east  up  in  places  by  conies,  whose  white  tails 
are    forever   to   be  Been  bunting  about  here    and    thi 
among  the  warreny  braes. 

••  Now  somehow  it  never  struck  me  that  Roaring  Rail 
would  bear  malice.  What  mattered  a  broken  bead  thai 
he  should  take  oil'  ace  at  his  ancient  friend?  Had  1  no1 
had  my  own  sconce  broke  a  score  of  times,  and  ever 
loved  the  breaker  better,  practising  away  with  John  and 
Gib  till  I  could  break  his  for  him  in  return  ?  Why  not 
thus  llaif  Pringle?  It  was  true  that  he  had  gotten  an 
uncouth  clour  from  the  bier-tram  of  Kells,  but  I  was  will- 
ing to  give  him  his  revenge  any  day  in  the  week — and, 
for  my  part,  bore  no  malice. 

"  So  in  this  frame  of  mind  I  strolled  up  towards  Kirk- 
christ,  when  the  reek  of  the  peat  fires  was  just  beginning 
to  go  up  into  a  still  heaven  from  the  cothouse  in  the 
dell,  and  the  good  cottier  wives  were  putting  on  their 
pots  to  make  their  Four-Hours.  I  was  at  peace  with  all 
the  world,  for  since  the  Kirk  of  Kells  there  had  been  a 
marvellous  lightening  of  my  spirit. 

"  Rachel  is  yonder,  I  thought  within  me,  as  I  went  up 
the  hillside  towards  the  low  four-square  homestead  of 
Kirk christ.  Her  hand  will  be  laying  the  peat  and  blow- 
ing up  the  kindling.  She  will  be  looking  out  for  me 
somewhere,  most  likely  at  yonder  window  in  the  gable 
end. 

"  Yes,  so  she  was.  For  as  I  came  in  view  of  the  yard 
gate  I  saw  a  white  thing  waved  vehemently,  and  then 
suddenly  withdrawn. 

"'Dear  lass,'  I  thought,  'she  is  watching,  and  thinks 


238  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

thus  to  bid  me  welcome.     She  has  doubtless  made  my 
peace  with  the  Roaring  One.' 

"And  I  smiled  within  myself,  like  a  vain  fool,  well- 
content  and  secure. 

"  Also  I  quickened  my  steps  a  little,  so  that  I  might 
arrive  in  time  for  the  meaL  being  hunger-sharpened  with 
my  travel,  and  having  out  of  expectance  and  forgetful- 
ness  taken  but  little  nooning  provender  with  me  from 
the  Black  Craig  of  Dee. 

"  I  watched  the  window  eagerly,  as  I  came  nearer,  for 
another  glint  of  the  kerchief.  But  not  the  beck  of  a  head 
or  the  flutter  of  a  little  hand  intimated  that  one  of  the 
bonniest  lasses  in  Galloway  was  waiting  within.  Yet  it 
struck  me  as  strange  that  there  were  no  clamorous  dogs 
about,  or  indeed  any  sound  of  life  whatever.  And  ever 
and  anon  I  seemed  to  hear  my  name  called,  but  yet, 
when  I  stopped  and  listened,  all  was  still  again  on  the 
moment. 

"  Now  the  entrance  into  the  courtyard  or  inner  square 
of  Kirkchrist  was  by  a  'yett'  or  strong  gate,  closed 
when  any  raiders  or  doubtful  characters  were  in  the 
neighbourhood,  as  well  as  in  the  night  season.  But  now 
this  '  yett '  stood  wide  open,  and  I  could  see  the  yellow 
straw  in  the  yard  all  freshly  spread,  the  stray  ears  yet 
upon  it  —  which  last,  together  with  the  empty  look  of 
the  crofts,  told  me  that  the  oats  had  been  gathered  in 
that  day.  Where,  then,  were  the  men  who  had  done  the 
work  ?  It  was  a  thing  unheard  of  that  they  should  de- 
part without  making  merry  in  the  house-place,  and  drink- 
ing of  the  home-brewed  ale,  laced  with  a  tass  of  brandy 
to  each  tankard. 

"  The  sun  was  low  behind  my  back,  and  I  was  looking 


HUMBLING    OF   STRENGTH  0>  AIKM      239 

towards   the   onstead  of   Kirkchrist,   when    suddenly    I 
saw  something  glisten  in  one  of  the  Little  thr«  red 

wicket-windows  of  the  barn.     Ct  was  bright,  and  shone 
like  polished  metal  —  a  steel  pistol  belike.     Hut, 

nevertheless,  I  went  on  in  the  same  dead,  uncanny  Bilence. 

"  Suddenly  '  Blaffl  blaffl  blaffP  Three  or  four  shots 
went  off  in  front  of  me  and  to  the  right.  I  heard  the 
smooth  hissing  sound  of  lead  bullets  and  the  whistle  of 
slugs.  Something  Btruck  me  on  the  muscle  of  the  fore- 
arm,  stunning  me  like  a  blow,  then  I  felt  a  kind  of  ragged 
tear  or  searing  of  the  flesh  as  with  a  hoi  iron.  I  cannot 
describe  il  c  —  not  very  painful  a1   first,  bul  rather 

angering,  and  inclining  me,  but  for  my  recent  conversion, 
to  stamp  and  swear  like  a  king's  troop-  r. 

••  This,  however,  I  had  small  time  to  do,  even  if  I  had 
wished  it ;  for,  after  one  glance  at  the  barn,  through  the 
three-cornered  wicks  of  which,  as  through  the  portholes 
of  a  ship  in  action,  white  wreaths  of  the  smoke  of  gun- 
powder were  curling,  my  right  arm  fell  to  my  side,  and  I 
turned  to  run.  Even  as  I  did  so,  a  little  cloud  of  men  — 
perhaps  half-a-dozen  —  came  rushing  out  of  the  mickle 
'yett'  with  a  loud  shout,  and  made  for  me  across  the 
level  sward.  Foremost  of  them  was  Roaring  Raif.  Then 
f  was  advertised  indeed  that  he  had  not  forgiven  the  clour 
on  the  head  he  had  gotten.  I  knew  him  by  his  height 
and  by  the  white  clout  that  was  bound  like  a  mutch  about 
his  brows. 

"'  Harry. '  B  'id  1  to  myself,  when  I  saw  them  thus  take 
after  me,  '  the  P.lack  Craig  will  never  see  you  more.  Ye 
are  as  a  dead  man.  You  cannot  run  far  with  that  arm 
draining  the  life  from  you,  and  there  is  no  shelter  within 
miles.' 


240  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

"  Then  I  heard  the  brainge  of  breaking  glass  behind 
nie,  and  a  voice:  'The  linn  —  the  linn,  Harry  Wedder- 
burn ;  flee  to  the  linn !  It  is  your  only  chance.  They 
are  mad  to  kill  you,  Harry  ! ' 

"And  even  then  I  was  glad  to  hear  the  voice  of  my 
lass,  for  to  know  that  her  heart  and  her  prayers  were 
with  me.  So  I  turned  at  the  word,  and  ran  redwud  for 
the  Linn  of  Kirkchrist  —  a  wild  steep  place,  all  cliffs  and 
screes  and  slithery  spouts  of  broken  slate.  I  felt  my 
strength  fast  leaving  me  as  I  ran,  and  ever  the  enemy 
shouted  nearer  to  my  back. 

"  '  Kill  him  !     Shoot  him  !     Put  a  bullet  into  him  ! ' 

"  Wondrous  stimulating  I  found  such  remarks  as  these, 
made  a  hundred  or  two  yards  to  leeward,  with  an  occa- 
sional pistol  bullet  whistling  by  to  mark  the  sense,  as  in 
a  printed  book.  This  made  me  run  as  I  think  I  never 
ran  before.  For,  though  I  was  a  changed  man,  I  did  not 
want  to  die  and  go  straight  to  that  Abraham's  bosom,  of 
which  the  Little  Fair  Man  had  spoken  as  one  that  had 
lain  there  of  a  long  season.  I  did  not  surmise  that  the 
accommodation  would  suit  me  so  well.  No,  not  yet 
awhile,  with  Rachel  Pringle  praying  for  my  life  half-a- 
mile  behind.  So  I  ran  and  better  ran,  till  the  sweat  of 
my  brow  ran  into  my  eyes  and  well-nigh  blinded  me. 
Now  in  those  days  I  was  very  young  and  limber.  And  I 
am  none  so  stiff  yet  for  my  age. 

"At  all  events,  when  I  came  to  the  taking  off  of  the 
linn  I  saw  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  my  callant's 
monkey  trick  of  letting  myself  down  like  a  wheel.  I 
had  often  practised  it  on  the  heathery  slopes  of  the  Black 
Craig  of  Dee,  so  I  caught  myself  behind  the  knees,  and, 
with  my  head  bent  like  a  hoop,  flung  myself  over  the 


HUMBLING  OF   STRENGTH-C-AIBM      241 

edge.  Presentl}  I  felt  myself  bearing  through  the 
copses    and  plunging   into    little    darksome     dells.      I 

rebounded  from  tree  tn;  id  bruised   myself  agau    I 

rucks.  Stones  l  had  Btarted  spat]  whizzing  about  my 
cars,  and  1  heard  the  risp  and  rattle  of  shot  fired  after 
in-  i'ruin  the  margin  of  the  linn.  My  wounded  arm 
seemed  as  if  drawn  from  its  socket.  Then  I  felt  the 
cool  plash  of  v.        .  and  I  knew  no  more 

■  I  mi   ht  ell  have  been  drowned  in  Kirkchrist 

Linn  that  day,  but  it  had  not  been  to  be.  For  it  so 
chanced  that  I  fell  into  the  deepest  pool  for  miles,  and 
was  carried  downwards  by  the  strongest  current  into  the 
place  that  is  now  called  the  '  Earry's  Jaws.'  This  is 
a  darksome  spot,  half-cavern,  half-bridge,  under  the 
gloomy  arch  of  which  the  brown  peat-water  foams  white 
as  fresh-poured  ale,  and  the  noise  of  its  thundering 
deafens  the  ear.  When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  lying 
half  out  of  the  water  and  half  in.  on  the  verge  of  a  great 
fail  where  the  burn  takes  a  leap  thirty  or  forty  feet  into 
a  black  pool.  I  looked  over,  and  there  beneath  me,  with 
one  of  my  own  pistols  in  his  hand,  was  Roaring  Raif,  a 
terrifying  sight,  with  his  bloody  clout  all  about  his 

head.  He  was  looking  at  the  pistol,  dripping  wet  as  it 
had  gone  over  the  fall  when  T  cane  down  like  a  run- 
away cart  wheel  into  the  Linn  of  Kirkchrist. 

"  (  He's  farther  doon  the  water,  boys,'  I  heard  him  cry, 
and  the  sound  was  sweet  to  my  ear.  '  Here's  the  pistol 
he  has  left  behint  him !  Scatter,  boys,  and  a  braw 
sheltie  to  the  man  that  first  puts  an  ounce  o'  lead  into 
him!' 

"  A  pleasant  forgiving  nature  had  this  same  Roaring 
One.     And  I  resolved  that,  though  a  converted  man,   1 


242  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

would  deal  with  him  accordingly  when  I  gat  hiin  into 
my  clutches. 

"  The  place  where  I  found  me  was  not  uncommodious. 
To  make  the  most  of  it  I  crawled  backwards  till  I  came 
to  the  end  of  the  rocks.  Here  was  a  little  strip  of  sand, 
and  over  that  a  dry  recess  almost  large  enough  for  a 
cave.  Some  light  filtered  in  from  unseen  crevices  above, 
so  that  I  think  it  was  not  roofed  with  solid  rock  over- 
head. Rather  it  was  some  falling  in  of  the  sides  of  the 
linn  which  had  made  the  hiding-place.  Here  I  was  safe 
enough  so  long  as  the  burn  did  not  rise  suddenly,  for  I 
knew  well  from  the  '  glet '  on  the  stones  and  the  bits  of 
stick  and  dried  rushes  that  the  waters  of  the  linn  filled 
all  the  interior  in  time  of  flood. 

"  Then  I  made  what  shift  I  could  to  bind  up  my  arm. 
I  was  already  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  but  I  bound  a 
band  tight  about  my  upper  arm,  twisting  it  with  a  stick 
till  I  almost  cried  out  with  the  greatness  of  the  pain. 
Then  I  tied  a  rag,  torn  from  my  shirt,  about  the  wound 
itself,  which  turned  out  to  be  in  the  fleshy  part,  very  red 
and  angry.  However,  it  had  bled  freely,  which,  though 
it  made  me  faint  at  the  time,  together  with  the  washing 
in  the  water  of  the  linn,  was  probably  the  saving  of  me. 
There  was  a  soft  fanning  air  as  the  night  drew  on,  and, 
in  my  wet  clothes,  I  shivered,  now  hot,  now  cold.  My 
head  was  throbbing  and  over-full ;  and  I  began  to  see 
strange  lights  about  me  as  the  cave  alternately  grew 
wide  and  high  as  the  firmament,  and  anon  contracted  to 
the  size  of  a  hazel-nut.  That  was  the  little  touch  of 
fever  which  always  comes  after  a  gunshot  wound. 

"  So  after  a  while  fell  the  darkness,  or,  rather,  if  there 
had  not  been  a  full  moon,  the  darkness  would  have  fallen. 


BUMBLING    OF   STRENGTH  0'    U  243 

Butt  being  thirst}  i   my  wi  rled   down 

water's  edge  and  benl  my  head  to  drink,  with  the 
dramming  of  bhe  fall  loud  in  my  ears.  And.  1<>;  in  the 
pool  1  saw  the  round  of  the  moon  reflected.  I  was  at 
the  mouth  of  the  little  cave,  and  there,  to  the  north, 
the  Plough  hung  as  from  ;i  nail  in  the  A-ugust  Bky,  while 
a  little  higher  I  saw  one  prong  of  silvery  I  opeia's 
broken-legged  '  \Y." 

"The  stars  looked  so  remote  and  lonesome,  so  safe 
and  careless  tip  there.     They  minded  so  little  that  I  was 
wounded  and  helpless,  that  if  I  had  not  been  a  chang 
man,  I  declare  I  could  have  cursed  them  in  my  heart. 

"  But  suddenly  from  above  came  a  sound  that  made  all 
my  heart  beat  and  quiver.  It  was  a  woman's  cry.  All 
you  who  have  never  heard  how  soft  a  woman  can  make 
her  speech  when  she  fears  for  her  true  man's  life,  take 
this  word.  There  is  no  sound  so  sweet,  so  low,  so  far- 
searching,  in  the  world. 

"  '  Harry  !  Harry  Wedderburn !  *  it  said.  And  I  knew 
that  in  the  midnight  Rachel  Pringle  was  searching  and 
calling  for  me.  Though  there  might  be  danger,  I  could 
not  bear  that  she  should  pass  away  from  me. 

"'I  am  here/ I  answered  as  softly  as  I  could.  But 
the  noise  of  the  waterfall  drowned  my  voice,  though  my 
ears,  grown  accustomed  to  the  roar,  had  caught  hers  easily 
enough. 

"  So,  steadying  me  on  the  crutch  of  a  tree  that  grew 
perilously  over  the  fall,  I  went  out  and  stood  in  the  full 
light  of  the  moon,  taking  my  life  in  my  hand  if  it  had  so 
chanced  that  any  of  my  enemies  were  in  ambush  round 
about. 

''Rachel  saw  me  instantly,  and  I  could  see  her  clasp 


244  THE    LITTLE    FAIR   MAN 

her  hands  over  her  heart  as  she  stood  on  the  margin  of 
the  clench,  black  against  the  indigo  sky  of  night. 

"  '  Harry  —  Harry  Wedderburn ! ' 

"  '  Here  —  dear  love  —  here !     By  the  waterfall.' 

"  In  an  instant  she  was  flying  down  the  slope,  having 
lifted  her  skirt,  and,  as  we  say,  '  kilted '  it,  so  that  she 
might  go  the  lighter.  She  wore  a  white  gown,  and  I 
could  see  her  flit  like  a  moth  through  the  covert  of  birk 
and  hazel  to  the  water-edge.  In  another  moment,  with- 
out stopping  either  for  direction  or  to  draw  breath,  she 
was  coming  towards  me,  her  face  to  the  precipice,  swiftly, 
fearlessly,  clinging  to  the  little  ragged  rock-rifts,  from 
which  scarce  a  wind-wafted  seed  would  grow  or  a  tuft  of 
gilly-flower  protrude  about  which  to  clasp  her  fingers. 
But  Rachel  Pringle  came  as  lightly  and  easily  as  if  she 
had  been  ascending  the  steps  of  her  father's  ha'. 

"  '  Go  back,'  she  whispered,  '  go  back,  dear  love ! 
They  may  see  you.     I  am  coming  —  I  know  the  way  ! ' 

"  And  with  that  I  stepped  back  out  of  the  moonlight, 
obedient  to  her  word.  Yet  I  stood  near  enough  to  the 
wall  of  the  cliff  to  reach  my  arm  over  for  her  to  take,  so 
that  she  might  have  something  to  hold  by  during  the 
last  and  most  difficult  steps  of  the  goats'  path,  the  roar- 
ing linn  being  above,  the  pool  deep  and  black  below. 

"Now,  either  by  chance  or  because  it  was  the  one 
which  could  reach  farthest,  I  tendered  Rachel  my 
wounded  arm,  and  as  soon  as  she  clasped  my  hand  so 
rude  a  stound  ran  up  my  wrist  that  it  seemed  as  though 
I  had  been  pierced  through  and  through  with  a  hot  iron. 
So  when  at  last  Rachel  leaped  lightly  upon  the  wet  rock, 
I  was  ready  to  droop  like  a  blown  windlestrae  in  a 
December   gale   into   her   arms  —  yes,  I,   that   was   the 


HUMBLING    OF   STRENG  ill  0'   All:  M      245 

strong  man,  called  Strength-o'-Airni,  laid  my  head  <>u 
her  .shoulder,  and  she  drew  me  within  th<*  shelter  of  the 
cave's  mouth,  crooning  vev  me  as  wood  doves  do  fo 
fcheii  mates,  and  whispering  soft  words  to  me  as  a 
mother  doth  to  a  bairn  that  hath  fallen  down  and  hurt 
itself. 

"But  in  a  little  the  stound  of  pain  passed  away,  what 
with  the  happiness  of  her  coming,  the  plash  of  the 
nearer  waters,  and  the  coolness  of  the  aighl  winds  which 
blew  to  and  fro  in  our  refuge  place  as  through  a  tuns 

"Then  Rachel  told  me  that  she  had  run  from  the 
house  while  they  were  all  searching  for  me  everywhere 
Roaring  Raif  and  his  brother  Peter,  together  with  Gib 
.Maxwell  of  Slagnaw,  Paul  Riddick  of  the  Glen,  and 
Black-Browed  Macclellane  of  Gregorie,  Will  of  Overlaw. 
and  Lancelot  Lindesay,  the  tutor  of  Rascarrel —  as 
bloodthirsty  a  crew  as  ever  raked  the  brimstony  by-roads 
of  hell. 

"  Very  well  T  knew  that  if  they  lighted  on  us  together 
there  was  no  hope  for  me.  But  Rachel  allayed  my  fear 
a  little  by  telling  me  that  she  did  not  believe  that  any  in 
the  house  knew  of  the  cave  beneath  the  tumble  of  rocks 
save  only  herself.  It  had  long  been  her  custom  to  seek 
it  for  quiet,  when  the  E  oaring  One  brought  his  crew 
about  the  house  of  Kirkchrist,  and  none  had  ever  tracked 
her  thither. 

"  So  she  examined  my  wound  in  the  light  of  the  moon, 
which  shone  in  at  one  end  as  we  sat  on  the  inmost  crutch 
of  the  tree.  Now  Rachel  had  much  skill  in  wounds,  for, 
indeed,  her  house  was  never  free  of  them,  her  brothers, 
Peter  and  the  Roaring  One,  never  both  being  skin-whole 
at  the   same  time.     And  so,  with  a  handsbreadth  torn 


246  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

from  her  white  underskirt,  she  bathed  and  bandaged  the 
wound,  telling  me  for  my  comfort  that  the  shot  appeared 
to  have  gone  through  the  fleshy  part  without  lodging,  so 
that  most  likely  the  wound  would  come  together  sweetly 
and  heal  by  the  first  intention. 

"Then,  after  this  was  done,  we  arrived  at  our  first  dif- 
ference. For  Rachel  vowed  that  she  would  in  no  wise 
go  back  to  the  onstead  of  Kirkchrist,  but  would  stop  and 
nurse  me  here  in  the  linn ;  which  thing,  indeed,  would 
have  been  mightily  pleasant  to  the  natural  man.  But, 
being  mindful  of  that  which  the  Little  Fair  Man  had 
said,  and  also  of  the  censorious  clatter  of  the  country- 
side, I  judged  this  to  be  impossible,  and  told  Rachel  so ; 
who,  in  her  turn,  received  it  by  no  means  with  meek- 
ness, but  rose  and  stamped  her  little  foot,  and  said  that 
she  would  go  and  never  return — that  she  was  sorry  to 
her  heart  she  had  ever  come  where  she  was  so  little 
thought  of,  with  many  other  speeches  of  that  kind,  such 
as  spirity  maids  use  when  they  are  affronted  and  in  dan- 
ger of  not  getting  their  own  sweet  way  with  the  men  of 
their  hearts. 

"  Now  it  went  sore  against  the  grain  thus  to  deal  with 
Rachel.  And  yet  I  could  think  of  no  way  of  appeasing 
her,  but  to  feign  a  dwalm  of  faintness  and  pain  from  my 
wound.  So  when  I  staggered  and  appeared  to  hold  my- 
self up  by  the  rook  with  difficulty,  she  stayed  in  the  full 
flood  of  her  reproaches,  and  faltered,  '  What  is  the  mat- 
ter, Harry  ? ' 

"Then,  because  I  made  no  answer,  she  kneeled  down 
beside  me,  and,  taking  my  head  in  both  of  her  hands, 
she  kissed  my  brow. 

" '  I  did  not  mean  it  —  indeed,  I  did  not,  Harry/  she 


Ill  MBLING    OF   M TBENG TII-o-AlKM 

said,  with  that  delicious  contrition  which  at  all  times  sat 
so  well  <m  hex  —  even  after  w^  married,  which  u  a 

strange  thing  and  very  uncommon. 

"Si.  I  touched  her  cheek  with  my  fii  •   rgave 

her,  as  a  man  who  has  been  in  the  wrong  forgives  a  lov- 
ing woman   who  has  not.     (Tin  re  is  ever  a  touch   of 
superiority  in  a  man's  forgiving — in  a  woman"-  th-  n 
only  love  and  the  desire  for  peace.) 

"'Then  I  may  stay  with  you?'  she  said. 

"  And  1  will  not  deny  but  she  tempted  me  sore. 

"But  swift  as  the  sunbeam  that  strikes  from  cloud  to 
hilltop,  a  thought  came  to  me. 

"'Listen  to  me,  Rachel/  I  said.  -At  the  break  of 
day  or  thereby  all  will  be  quiet.  The  Roaring  One  and 
his  crew  will  be  snoring  in  bed ' 

"'Or  on  the  floor,'  said  Rachel,  with  a  quick  and 
dainty  sniff  of  distaste. 

"'Either  will  suffice,'  I  said.  'Then  will  we  go  down 
and  call  up  the  minister.  We  will  cause  him  to  many 
us,  and  then  we  will  fear  neither  traitor  nor  slanderer.' 

'"But  he  will  not!'  she  cried.  'Donald  Bain  is  a 
bishop's  hireling,  and,  besides,  our  Raif's  boon  com- 
panion.' 

'•Then  I  drew  my  dirk  and  held  it  aloft,  so  thai 
the  moonlight  ran  like  molten  silver  down  the  blade. 

'•  •  See,'  said  I,  'dear  Rachel,  if  this  does  not  gar  the 
curate  of  Kirkchrist  marry  us  to  a  galloping  tune,  Harry 
Wedderburn  kens  not  the  breed,  that  is  all.' 

"'Content!'  said  she.  'I  will  do  what  you  say, 
Harry ;  only  I  will  not  go  back  to  Kirkchrist  nor  will  I 
part  from  you  now  when  I  have  gotten  you.' 

'•  Which  thing  I  was  most  glad  to  hear  from  her  fair 


248  THE   LITTLE   FAIB   MAN 

and  loving  lips.  And  I  thought,  smilingly,  that  Rachel's 
manner  of  speaking  these  words  became  her  very  well. 

"  So  there  in  the  din  of  the  water-cavern  and  under 
the  wheeling  shafts  of  silver  light  as  the  moon  swung 
overhead,  we  two  abode  well  content,  waiting  for  the 
dawn. 

"And  so,  in  this  manner,  aud  for  all  my  brave 
words,  the  witch  got  her  way." 

But  how  —  we  shall  see. 


THE    LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 
III.  —  The  Curatj    of  Kikkchrist 

"  The  manse  of  Kirkcbrist  parish  was  less  than  a  mile 
down  the  glen.  It  had  only  a  week  or  two  before  been 
taken  possession  of  by  one  Donald  Bain  an  ignorant 
fellow,  so  they  said,  intruded  upon  us  by  the  new  bishop. 
For  Mr.  Gilbert,  our  old  and  tried  minister  and  servant 
of  God,  had  been  removed,  even  as  Mr.  Rutherfurd  had 
been  put  out  of  Anwoth,  and  at  about  the  same  time. 

"  Thither,  then,  we  took  our  way,  my  dear  betrothed 
and  I,  with  my  wounded  arm  carried  across  me,  the 
sleeve  being  pinned  to  my  coat  front  so  that  I  could  not 
move  my  hand. 

"  We  kept  entirely  to  the  thickets  by  the  water-side, 
Rachel  leading  the  way.  For  she  had  played  all  her  life 
at  the  game  which  had  now  become  earnest  and  deadly. 
But  we  need  not  have  troubled.  For  as  we  went,  from 
far  away,  light  as  a  waft  of  wind  blown  athwart  a  meadow, 
we  heard  the  chorus  of  the  roisterers  in  the  house  of 
Kirkchrist,  and  emergent  from  the  servile  ruck,  the  voice 
of  her  brother,  the  Roaring  One,  urging  good  fellows 
all  to  '  come  drink  with  him.'  Somewhat  superfluously, 
indeed,  to  all  appearance,  for  the  good  fellows  all  had 
apparently  been  '  come-drinking '  all  night  to  the  best 
of  their  ability  and  opportunities. 

"  After  this  Rae  and  I  went  a  little  more  openly  and 
swiftly.     This  chiefly  for  my  sake,  because  tb:'  uneven 

248 


250  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

ground  and.  the  little  branches  of  the  hazel-bushes  caught 
and  whipped  my  wounded  arm,  making. me  more  than 
once  to  wince  with  the  pain. 

"And  Eachel  kept  a  little  beneath  me  on  the  brae, 
and  bade  me  lean  my  well  hand  on  her  shoulder,  saying 
that  I  could  not  press  over-hard,  end  that  the  more  I 
did  so,  the  more  would  she  know  that  I  loved  her.  In 
this  not  unpleasing  fashion  we  came  to  the  house  of  the 
curate  that  had  so  lately  been  intruded  upon  the  manse 
of  godly  Mr.  Gilbert. 

"  The  place  was  all  dark,  and  the  shutters  put  over 
the  windows  for  fear  of  shots  from  without.  Then  with 
my  sword  hilt  I  began  to  knock,  and  the  noise  of  the 
blows  resounded  through  the  house  hollow  and  loud. 
For  the  Highlandman  had  as  yet  put  little  furniture  into 
it,  save  as  they  said  a  sheave  or  two  of  rushes  for  a  bed 
for  himself,  and  another  for  the  wench  that  keeped  house 
to  him  —  his  sister,  as  he  averred. 

"  In  no  long  space  of  time  his  reverence  set  a  shock 
head  out  of  the  window  to  ask  what  was  the  din.  The 
which  he  did  in  a  bold  manner,  as  though  he  were  the 
lord  and  master  of  the  neighbourhood.  But  I  tamed 
him,  for  I  bade  him  do  his  curate's  coat  upon  him,  and 
bring  his  service  book,  for  that  he  was  to  marry  two 
people  there  and  then. 

"  '  Who  be  you  that  seek  to  be  married  so  untimeous  ? ' 
he  asked.     '  Cannot  ye  be  content  till  the  morning  ?  ' 

" '  That  is  just  why  we  cannot  be  content,'  I  answered ; 
'  we  must  be  far  away  by  then  ! ' 

"  So  in  a  little  he  rose  up  grumbling  and  came  down. 

" '  Have  you  not  also  a  maid  in  the  house  ?  '  I  asked 
of  him. 


THE  CURATE   OF    £IRK<  1:  251 

"'Aye,'  said  he,  v«;y  dried  like,  'my  sister  Jean  !' 

••  Bid  her  rise.  We  have  Deed  of  ;i  witness!'  1  bad* 
him. 

"'And  I,  of  sonie  one  to  hold  the  candle!'  he 
ailded. 

"It  was  about  four  of  the  clock,  and  the  east  1 
more  than  graying,  as  we  four  stood  in  front  of  I 
manse  of  Kirkchrist.  Had  any  been  abroad  to  see  as 
we  had  seemed  a  curions  company.  The  curate  in  his 
white  t?own  and  black  bands,  his  shambling  nightgear 
peeping  out  above  and  undei  —  a  red  peaked  nightcap 
on  his  head,  the  tassel  of  which  nodded  continually  over 
his  right  eye  in  a  most  ludicrous  manner  (only  that  none 
thought  of  mirth  thai  night).  Beside  him,  a  dripping 
candle  in  her  hand,  stood  his  sister,  a  buxom  quean, 
blowsed  with  health  and  ruddy  as  the  cherry. 

"  Before  these  two  I  stood,  <  a  black  towering  hulk 
with  one  arm  in  a  sling'  (Rachel's  words),  and  beside 
me,  my  sweet  bride,  dainty  and  light  as  a  butterfly  at 
poise  on  a  flower's  lip. 

"  Overhead  among  the  trees  the  wind  began  to  move, 
blowing  thin  and  chill  before  the  dawn.  And  even  as 
the  curate  thumbed  and  mumbled  beneath  the  flicker  of 
the  candle,  I  saw  the  light  break  behind  tin'  Black 
Craig  of  Dee,  and  wondered  if  ever  Itae  and  I  should 
dwell  in  peace  and  content  in  the  lee  of  it. 

"  And  because  neither  Rachel  nor  T  knew  that  form  of 
words,  Jean  Bain  kepi  us  right,  prompting  us  how  to 
kneel  here,  and  v.diat  to  answer  there,  here  to  say  our 
names  over,  and  there  promise  to  love  each  other — the 
last  not  necessary,  for  if  we  had  not  done  that  already, 
we  had  hardly  been  at  the  manse  of  Ivirkchrist  at  fom 


252  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

of  the  August  morning  in  order  to  be  wed  by  an  alien 
and  uncovenanted  priest. 

"  But  scarcel}'-  had  the  blessing  of  Donald  Bain  made 
us  man  and  wife,  when  we  heard  the  roisterers'  chorus 
again  abroad  on  the  hills,  and  Jean  Bain  came  rushing 
upon  us  wild  with  alarm.  She  guessed  well  enough  who 
we  were.  For  the  searchers  had  been  at  the  manse  the 
night  before  swearing  to  have  my  life. 

" '  Flee/  she  said ;  '  take  to  the  heather  for  your 
lives.     They  have  sworn  to  kill  your  husband ! ' 

"  This  I  knew  well  enough  ;  but  the  perversity  of  fate 
which  at  that  time  clung  to  me,  made  me  ready  to 
faint. 

"'I  cannot  go  —  I  am  dizzy  with  my  wound  ! '  I  said, 
and  would  have  fallen  but  that  Rachel  and  the  young 
Highland  woman  held  me  up  in  their  arms. 

"  All  this  time  the  shouting  and  hallooing  like  the 
crying  of  hunters  on  the  hills  came  nearer,  and  the  day 
was  breaking  fast. 

"  Rachel  and  I  were,  indeed,  in  a  strait  place.  I 
bethought  me  on  the  Little  Fair  Man,  and  almost 
repented  that  his  counsels  had  brought  me  to  this. 
But  even  then,  and  in  the  house  of  the  Philistine,  help 
came. 

" '  Come  in  with  you  both/  said  Jean  Bain  in  a  fierce 
voice,  as  if  daring  contradiction.  '  Donald,  aff  wi'  your 
surplice  and  on  wi'  your  coat.  You  must  meet  them, 
and  hold  them  in  parley.  It  shall  not  be  said  that  a 
bridegroom  was  slaughtered  like  an  ox  upon  our  door- 
step within  an  hour  of  his  wedding.' 

"  With  that  she  bustled  us  upstairs  to  her  own  room. 
Truly  enough,  there  was  but  one  broad  pallet  of  heather 


THE   CURATE   OF    hli;h<  111:1s  i 

oovdred  with  rushes  spread  on  the  Boor,  and  no  other 
furniture  whatever. 

"  Near  the  bed-head  there  was  the  low  door  of  a  little 
closet  or  deep  cupboard.  Into  this  she  bade  us  enter, 
and  told  us  that  she  would  hang  her  clothing  over  it 
upon  the  wooden  pegs  which  were  there  for  the  purp< 
Since  no  better  might  be  we  entered,  for  my  head  was 
running  round  with  my  loss  of  blood  and  the  pain  in  m\ 
wounded  arm.     I  was  glad  to  lie  down  anywhere. 

"Then  through  the  buzzing  bees'  byke  in  my  skull  I 
could  hear  Jean  Bain  giving  her  last  orders  to  the  curate. 

"'Hear  ye,  Donald,  lee  to  them  weel.  Ye  hae  seen 
nocht  —  ken  noeht ;  and  if  they  offer  to  bide,  tell  them 
that  it  is  the  hour  when  ye  engage  in  family  worship. 
That  will  flit  them  if  nocht  else  will ! ' 

"  And  though  I  could  hear  the  raucous  voice  of  that 
someril  brother-in-law  of  mine  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  1  could  not  help  laying  my  head  on  Rachel's 
shoulder,  and  whispering  in  her  ear  the  words,  '  Little 
wife!'  To  which  she  responded  with  no  more  than 
'  Hush  ! '  So  there  we  abode,  crouching  and  cowering  in 
that  dark  cupboard  while  a  score  of  raging  demons 
turned  the  curate's  house  upside  down,  crying  for  jugs 
of  brandy  and  tasses  of  aquavity,  while  Jean  Bain 
shrilly  declared  that  no  brandy  could  they  expect  in 
such  a  poverty-stricken  land,  but  good  home-brewed  ale 
—  and  even  that  they  should  not  have  unless  they 
behaved  themselves  more  seemly. 

"  But  ever  as  I  lay  the  darkness  seemed  to  stretch 
far  above  me,  the  walls  to  mount  and  then  swiftly  come 
together  again ;  now  I  was  upheaved  on  delicious  bil- 
lows  of  caller   air,   and   anon   I   fell    earthward   again 


254  THE   LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

through  the  illimitable  vault  of  heaven.  Yet  every  now 
and  then  I  would  awake  for  a  moment  to  find  my  head 
on  a  sweeter  than  Abraham's  bosom,  and  so  fall  to  con- 
temning my  folly.  But  ere  I  had  time  to  realise  my 
happiness  I  was  off  again  ranging  the  universe,  or 
at  converse  with  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  mocking 
spirits  that  mopped  and  mowed  about  my  path.  For  I 
was  just  falling  into  a  fever,  and  my  dear  lass  had  to 
put  her  skirt  about  my  mouth  to  keep  the  man-hunters 
from  hearing  me  moan  and  struggle  in  my  phantasy. 

"  By  nine  of  the  clock  they  had  drunken  all  that  was 
in  the  curate's  house,  and  poor  Donald  Bain  had  gone  to 
convoy  them  on  their  way.  They  were  going  (so  they 
swore)  to  the  Black  Craig  o'  Dee  to  rout  me  out  of  my 
den.  And  this  made  Rachel  very  sore  afraid,  for  she 
knew  well  that  if  we  were  to  go  back  to  the  damp  cave 
in  the  linn  I  would  never  rise  from  my  bed  alive.  And 
now,  as  she  thought,  the  way  was  shut  to  our  only  port 
of  refuge.  Also  she  feared  for  John,  my  brother  —  not 
being  acquaint  with  John,  and  conceiving  that  they 
might  do  him  a  mischief,  together  with  the  innocent- 
plough  lads  and  herds  in  the  house.  But  this  need  not 
have  troubled  her,  for  indeed  no  one  about  the  Black 
Craig  o'  Dee  desired  anything  better  than  that  Roar- 
ing Raif  and  his  crew  should  come  near  at  hand  to 
receive  the  welcome  prepared  for  him. 

"But  in  the  very  hour  of  the  storm-breaking  there 
appeared  a  bieldy  dyke-back  to  shelter  two  poor  lost 
wandering  lambs.  For  no  sooner  was  Donald  Bain  out 
of  the  house  with  all  the  ungodly  crew  than  Jean,  his 
sister,  flew  upstairs  to  us,  with  her  gown  all  pulled  awry 
as  she  had  escaped  from  the  hands  of  the  roisterers. 


THE  CURA  I  E   OF    KIEKCHRIST 

"'Come  your  ways  out,  you  puir  young  things,'  she 
cried;  'they  are  gane,  and  the  Eoul  fiend  ride  ahint 
them.     May  they  never  come  this  road  again,  th:  ned 

neither  how  to  behave  themselves  seemly  in  a  manse 
nor  how  to  conduct  them  before  a  decent  lass.  Faith, 
they  little  jalloused  how  mar  they  were  to  gettin'  a 
durk  be1  wren  the  ribs  ! ' 

"  But  by  the  time  Rachel  and  Jean  Bain  got  me  out  of 
that  darksome  closet  I  was  fairly  beside  myself.  The 
fever  ran  high,  and  I  raved  about  rivers  of  waters  and 
the  sound  of  great  floods,  and  threeped  with  them  that 
I  saw  the  Little  Fair  Man  coming  on  the  wings  of 
seraphims  and  cherubims  and  lifting  me  up  out  of  the 
mire. 

"And  as  soon  as  Jean  Bain  heard  the  yammer  and 
yatter  of  my  foolish  running  on,  she  went  to  the  closet 
for  some  simple  herbs,  and  put  them  in  a  pot  over  the 
fire  to  steam.  Then  she  bade  Rachel  help  me  down  to 
the  minister's  chamber,  and  between  them  they  un- 
dressed me,  cutting  the  sleeve  from  my  coat  so  as  to  save 
the  poor  wounded  arm.  They  got  me  finally  between 
the  blankets,  and  made  me  drink  of  this  herb-tea  and 
that,  willy-nilly.  For  which,  as  I  heard  afterwards,  I 
called  them  '  witch-wives,'  '  black  crows  of  a  foul  nest,' 
with  many  other  names.  But  Jean  Bain  held  me  by  the 
arm  that  was  whole,  while  Rachel  fleeched  with  me 
through  her  streaming  tears ;  and  so  in  time  they  gat 
me  to  take  down  the  naughty -tasting  brew.  Neverthe- 
less, in  a  little  it  soothed  me  as  a  mother's  lullaby  doth 
a  fractious  wean,  and  in  time  I  fell  on  a  refreshing  sh 

"  Yet  Rachel  would  not  be  comforted,  but  mourned  for 
me  greatly,  till  Jean  Bain  told  her  of  the  yet  sorer  case 


256  THE    LITTLE   FATE    MAN 

in  which  she  and  Donald  had  but  lately  been.  To  which 
my  lass  rejoined,  proud  of  her  exceedingly  recent  wife- 
hood :  'Ah,  but  he  is  your  brother  —  not  your  man !  I 
would  not  care  what  became  of  Raif,  not  if  they  hanged 
him  on  the  Gallows  hill,  and  the  craws  pyked  his  banes  ! ' 

"For  she  was  angry  with  her  brother. 

"  Then  all  suddenly  Jean  Bain  set  her  head  between 
her  hands,  and  began  to  greet  as  if  her  poor  heart  were 
near  the  breaking. 

" '  He  is  my  man  —  he  is  my  man ! '  she  cried.  '  And 
I  wish  we  were  back  again  in  bonny  Banff,  him  a  herd 
laddie  an'  me  a  herd  lassie,  and  that  we  could  hear  again 
the  waves  break  amang  the  rocks  at  Tarlair ! 

" '  Wedded  —  aye,  that  are  we,  firm  and  staunch,  —  but 
Donald  daurna  let  on,  or  Bishop  Sydserf  wad  turn  him 
awa'.  He  will  hae  nae  wedded  priests  amang  them  that 
he  sets  ower  his  parochins,  but,  as  he  says,  men  kin- 
less  and  cumberless  that  are  neither  feared  to  stand  and 
fight  or  mount  and  ride.  It  came  aboot  this  gate. 
When  Donald  was  comin'  awa'  to  get  his  lear,  I  was  fair 
broken-hearted.  For  we  had  herded  lang  thegether  on 
the  gowden  braes,  and  lain  mony  a  simmer  day  amang 
the  broom  wi'  our  een  on  the  sheep,  but  our  hearts  verra 
close  the  yin  to  the  ither.  The  bishop  was  o'  our  clan 
and  country-side,  and  he  made  Donald  graund  offers  — 
siccan  fat  parishes  as  there  were  in  the  Lawlands  —  sti- 
pend—  house  and  gear  —  guid  faith,  he  dazzled  a'  the 
weel-doin'  laddies  there-aboot.  And  Donald  gied  his 
word  to  be  a  curate,  for  he  was  weel-learned  and  had 
been  to  the  schule  as  mony  as  four  winters,  me  gangin' 
wi'  him,  and  carryin'  his  books  when  I  could  win  clear  o' 
my  mither. 


THE   CTOATE   0"F    KXRKCHRIST  267 

"'So  since  I  couldna  bide  Erae  him,  Donald  brocht  me 
here  to  this  cauld,  ill,  ootland  place,  where  we  bide 
amang  fremil  and  unco  folk  that  hate  us.  Bui  we  were 
married  Brs1  and  foremosl   by  the  minister  o'  Deer,  t! 

was  a  third  cousin  o'  Donald's  aunt's  —  and  a  solid  man 
that  can  keep  his  tongue  safe  and  siccar  ahint  his 
teeth. 

"  '  But  oh  —  this  place  that  we  thocht  to  be  a  garden  o' 
a  delichts  and  an  orchard  o'  gowden  fruit  is  hard  and  un- 
kindly and  bare.  The  gear  and  plenishin'  of  this  manse 
arc  nocht  but  the  heather  beds  that  our  ain  fingers  pu', 
and  the  blankets  we  brocht  wi5  us.  And  for  meat  we  hae 
the  fish  o'  the  streaui  an'  the  birds  that  Donald  whiles 
shoots  wi1  his  gun  —  paitricks  and  wild  ducks  on  the 
ponds.  For  no  a  penny's  worth  o'  steepend  will  they 
.  And  the  bishop's  warrandice  runs  nae  farther  than 
the  range  o'  the  guns  o'  his  bodyguard.' 

"So,  after  this  explanation,  the  two  women  mourned 
together   as   they   tended    me,    and    presently   the    poor 
curate,  Donald   Bain,  came  back  to  find  them  thus,  and 
me  raving  at  large,  and  trying  to  tear  off  the  bandar 
from  my  arm. 

"So  here  in  this  house,  ill-furnished  and  cheerless,  this 
kindly  couple  kept  us  safely  hid  till  the  blast  had  over- 
blown and  the  bitterest  of  the  shower  slacked.  Fire  weeks 
we  abode  there  before  I  could  be  moved,  and  even  then 
I  was  still  as  weak  as  water.  But  for  the  last  fortnight 
we  lived  in  more  comfort.  For  the  curate  went  over  on 
a  sheltie  winch,  as  he  said,  he  '  had  fand  in  a  held,'  to 
the  Black  Craig  of  Dee,  and  there  held  a  long  parley 
with  my  brother  in  the  gate,  while  John  had  all  his 
work  to  keep  Gib  Grier  and  his  herd-laddies  from  shoot- 


258  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

ing  the  curate  for  a  black  hoodie  craw  o'  Prelacy,  as  they 
named  him. 

"  And  John  came  back  with  his  visitor  to  the  manse  of 
Kirkchrist  on  a  beast  with  store  of  provend  upon  it, 
together  with  good  French  wines  and  other  comforts  for 
the  upbuilding  of  the  sick. 

"  '  I  declare  I  will  never  speak  against  a  curate  again/ 
said  John,  when  he  heard  that  which  we  had  to  tell  him. 
And  he  kissed  his  new  sister  Rachel  with  great  and 
gracious  goodwill,  for  John  was  ever  fond  of  a  bonnie 
lass.  Besides,  we  had  had  no  woman  body  about  the 
Black  Craig  ever  since  our  mother  died,  when  we  were 
but  wild  laddies  herding  the  craws  off  the  corn  in  the 
long  summer  days,  and  hiding  lest  we  should  be  made  to 
go  with  the  funeral  that  wimpled  over  the  moor  to  the 
Kirkyaird  of  Kells. 

"  Likewise  also  he  saluted  Jean  Bain,  or  she  him  —  I 
am  not  sure  which.  For  Jean  was  in  no  wise  backward 
in  affection,  but  of  a  liberal,  willing,  softish  nature  ;  fond 
of  a  talk  with  a  lad  over  a  '  yett,'  and  fond,  too,  of  a  kiss 
at  parting.  Which  last  she  gave  to  John  with  hearty 
goodwill,  and  that,  too,  in  the  presence  of  the  curate. 

"  And  as  we  went  slowly  back  over  the  heather,  John 
walked  on  one  side  of  the  horse  which  carried  me,  and 
Rachel  rode  on  the  sheltie  on  the  other.  John  was  silent 
for  a  long  while,  and  then  he  all  at  once  said  :  '  Dod,  but 
I  think  I  could  fancy  that  Heelant  lass  myseP  ! ' 

"  So  Rachel  began  to  tell  him  how  it  was  with  Donald 
Bain  the  curate  and  Jean  his  wife.  For  with  a  woman's 
love  for  a  fair  field  and  no  favour  in  matters  of  love,  she 
did  not  wish  John  to  spend  himself  on  that  which  could 
never  be  his.     Then  was  John  very  doleful  for  a  spa°° 


THE   CURATE   OF    RIRKCHRIST  2fifl 

-  -  I'.nt  in  time  he,  too,  <  d  bis  mind,  and  was  most 

kind  to  poor  Donald  Bain  and  his  wife  when  in  the  year 
L638  he  was  outed  from  his  parish  in  the  Bamemonth 
that.  Sydserf,  his  master,  wassel  aside  by  the  parliament 
and  the  people  of  Scotland.  Then  great  evil  might  have 
lUen  him  but  thai  being  long  fully  recovered  from 
my  wound,  Gib  Grier  and  I  set  out  for  tin-  manse  of 
Kirkchrist,  and  brought  them  both,  Donald  and  Jean,  to 
the  Black  Craig  of  Dee,  where  in  the  midst  of  our  great 
moors  and  black  moss-hags  they  were  safe  even  as  I  had 
been  in  their  house.  And  in  our  spare  chamber,  too,  was 
born  to  them  a  b  hing  which,  had  it  been  kenned, 

would  have  caused  great  scandal  all  over  the  land  for  the 
wickedness  of  the  curates.  But  none  knew  (save  John 
and  Gib,  who  were  sworn  to  secrecy)  till  we  gat  them 
convoyed  away  to  the  north  again,  where  they  did  very 
well,  and  Donald  became  chaplain  to  my  Lord  of  Suther- 
land. And  every  year  for  long  and  long  the  Edinburgh 
carrier  brought  us  a  couple  of  haunches  of  venison  well 
smoked,  which  served  us  till  Yule  or  Pasch.  and  very 
toothsome  and  sweet  it  was.  This  was  a  memorial  from 
Donald  Bain  and  dean  his  wife. 

"  Douce  and  sober  we  lived,  Rachel  and  I,  we  who  had 
been  so  strangely  joined.  For  the  Slee  Tod  of  Kirk- 
christ  was  glad  enough  to  have  his  daughter  wed  to  one 
who  asked  neither  dower  nor  wedding-gift,  tocher  nor 
house  linen  ;  and  as  for  Roaring  Raif,  he  broke  his  neck- 
bone  over  the  linn  coming  home  one  night  from  the  rood- 
fair  of  Dumfries.  But  I  kept  my  mind  steadfastly  set 
to  make  my  new  life  atone  for  the  faults  of  the  old  — 

which  may  be  bad  theology,  but   is   good   sound   fact. 

•v"d  Rachel,  like  a  valiant  housewife,  aided  me  in  that 


260  .  THE   LITTLE    FAIR   MAN 

as  in  all  things.  So  that  I  became  in  time  a  man  of 
mark,  and  was  chosen  an  elder  by  the  Session  of  the 
parish.  But  nevertheless  the  old  Adam  was  not  dead 
within  me,  but  only  kept  close  behind  bars  waiting  to  be 
quits  with  me.  For  as  the  years  went  by  I  was  greatly 
taken  up  with  my  own  righteousness,  and  so  in  excellent 
case  to  backslide. 

"  Now  it  chanced  that,  being  one  day  in  the  change 
house  of  the  clachan,  I  heard  one  speak  lightly  of  our 
daughter  Anne,  that  was  now  of  marriageable  age,  and 
of  a  most  innocent  and  merry  heart.  So  anger  took  hold 
of  me,  and,  unmindful  of  my  great  strength,  I  dealt  the 
young  man  such  a  buffet  on  the  side  of  his  head  that  he 
was  carried  out  for  dead,  and  indeed  lay  long  at  his 
father's  house  between  life  and  death. 

"  Now  this  was  a  mighty  sorrow  to  me  and  to  Rachel 
my  wife.  And  though  little  was  said  because  of  the 
provocation  I  had  (which  all  had  heard),  I  thought  it  my 
duty  to  resign  my  office  of  the  eldership,  confessing  my 
hastiness  and  sin  to  my  brethren,  and  offering  public 
contrition.  But  for  ail  that  I  gat  no  ease,  but  was  under 
a  great  cloud  of  doubt,  feeling  myself  once  again  without 
God  and  without  hope  in  the  world. 

"  Then  it  came  to  me  that  if  I  could  but  see  the  Little 
Fair  Man  again  he  would  tell  me  what  I  should  do.  I 
knew  that  he  had  been  of  a  long  season  regent  of  a  col- 
lege in  the  town  of  Sanct  Anders.  So  I  gave  myself  no 
rest  day  nor  night  till  my  good  wife,  after  vainly  trying 
to  settle  me  by  her  loving  words,  made  all  preparation  of 
pro  vend  in  saddle-bags,  and  guineas  in  pouch,  and  set 
me  on  a  good  beast  at  the  louping-on  stone  by  our  door. 
It  was  the  first  year  of  the  restored  King  Charles,  the 


THE   CURATE   OE    KTBKCHBIST  261 

Second  of  that  name,  and  the  darkness  was  jusl  thicki 

ing   upon  the   land,  a  darkness  r  than 

when  I  set  onl  to  see  Mr.  Rutherfurd. 

"For  the  early  ['art  of  my  travel  all  went  well,  but 
when  I  was  passing  through  the  town  of  Hamilton,  cer- 
tain soldiers  set  upon  me,  asking  for  my  pass,  and  rail- 
ing me  'Westland  Whig'  and  'canting  rebel.'  Tl 
would  have  taken  from  me  all  that  I  had.  having 
already  turned  my  saddle-bags  outside  in,  and  one  of 
them  even  came  near  to  thrust  his  hand  into  my  pocket, 
when  a  coach  drove  up  with  six  horses  and  outrid 
mired  to  the  shoulders.  Then  a  pair  of  grand  servants 
sprang  down  from  behind,  and  cried  :  '  Room  for  my 
Lord  Bishop  ! '  And  at  this  the  soldiers  desisted  from 
plundering  me  to  do  their  obeisance. 

"  Then  there  came  forth  first  a  rosy  buxom  woman. 
breathing  heavily,  and  holding  out  a  plump  hand  to  the 
man-servant. 

■•  But  when  she  saw  me  with  a  soldier  at  either  side. 
she  took  one  long  look,  and  then  cried  out  in  a  hearty 
voice:  -What's  this  —  what's  this  —  my  friend  Harr\ 
TVedderbum  in  the  gled's  claws  ?  Let  be,  scullions  ! 
Donald,  here's  our  host  frae  the  Pdack  Craig  o'  Dee  ! ' 

■  \nd  forthwith,  the  soldiers  falling  back  abashed,  the 
bishop's  lady,  she  that  had  been  poor  Jean  Bain,  came  at 
me  in  her  old  reckless  way,  and  flung  her  arms  a1>out 
my  neck,  kissing  me  soundly  and  heartily  —  as  I  had  not 
been  kissed  of  a  long  season  by  any  save  Rachel,  me 
being  no  more  a  young  man. 

'•  And  the  bishop  was  no  other  than  Donald  himself, 
the  same  who  had  been  curate  of  Kirkchrist  —  and  a 
light  reverend  prelate  he  looked. 


262  THE  LITTLE   FAIR  MAN 

"  Then  nothing  would  do  Jean  and  Donald  but  I  must 
get  into  the  carriage  with  thern,  and  have  one  of  their 
men-servants  ride  my  beast  into  Edinburgh.  Neither 
excuse  nor  nay-say  would  my  lady  bishop  take.  So  in 
this  manner  we  travelled  very  comfortably,  I  sitting 
beside  her,  and  at  Edinburgh  we  parted,  I  to  Sanct 
Anders,  they  to  a  lodging  near  my  Lord  of  Sutherland's 
house,  to  whose  influence  with  the  king  they  owed  their 
advancement.  Eor  they  were  hand  and  glove  with  him. 
And  the  morning  I  was  to  ride  away  came  their  carriage 
to  the  door,  and  lo!  my  lady  again  —  this  time  with  a 
safe-conduct  and  letter  of  certification  from  the  Privy 
Council  setting  forth  that  I  was  a  person  notably  well- 
affected  and  staunch ;  that  none  were  to  hinder  or 
molest  me  or  mine  in  body  or  estate  under  penalty  of  the 
King's  displeasure.  Which  thing,  in  the  troublous  times 
to  come,  more  than  once  or  twice  stood  me  in  great  stead. 

"  But  when  I  came  to  Sanct  Anders,  the  first  thing  I 
heard  was  that  Mr.  Rutherfurd  lay  a-dying  in  his  col- 
lege of  St.  Mary's.  I  betook  me  thither,  and  lo !  a  guard 
of  soldiers  was  about  the  doors,  and  would  in  no  wise 
permit  me  pass.  They  were  burning  a  pile  of  books, 
and  I  heard  say  that  it  was  done  by  order  of  the  parlia- 
ment, and  that  thereafter  Mr.  Rutherfurd  was  to  be  car- 
ried out,  alive  or  dead,  and  his  bed  set  in  the  open  street. 
Lex  Rex  was  the  name  of  the  book  I  saw  them  turning 
this  way  and  that  with  sticks,  so  as  to  make  the  leaves 
burn  faster.  I  know  not  why  it  was  so  dour  to  catch, 
for  out  of  curiosity  I  got  me  a  copy  afterwards,  and  the 
Lord  knows  it  was  dry  enough  —  at  least  to  my  taste. 

"  But  after  a  while,  showing  the  officer  my  Privy 
Council  letter,  I  prevailed  on  him  that  I  had  a  mandate 


THE  CURATE   OF   KIRKCHRIST  2G3 

from  government  to  see  Mr.  Rutherford,  and  that  I  had 
come  direc  id  of  purpose  from  Edinburgh  to  oversee 

the  affair,  and  report  on  those  who  v  at.     So  at 

long  and  last  the;  air. 

"And  at  the  top  I  found  many  doors  closed,  but  one 
open,  and  Hie  sound  of  a  voice,  1  knew  well  speaking 
within. 

I]  it  was  telling  the  praises  of  the  Friend  — 
yes,  after  a  lifetime  of  struggle  and  suffering.  Xor  do  I 
think  that,  save  for  taking  rest  in  sleep,  the  voice  had 
ever  been  silent  on  that  theme. 

"  So  though  none  knew  me.  I  passed  straight  through 
the  little  company  to  the  death-bed  of  the  man  who 
spoke.  He  was  the  Little  Fair  Man  no  longer.  But 
his  scant  white  hair  lay  soft  as  silk  on  the  pillow.  His 
face  was  pale  as  ivory,  his  cheeks  fallen  in  ;  only  his  eyes 
glowed  like  live  coals  deep-sunken  in  his  head. 

" '  So,  friend  —  you  have  come  to  see  an  old  man  die,' 
he  said,  when  his  eyes  lighted  on  me  ;  'what,  a  bairn  of 
mine,    sayst   thou  —  not  after  the  flesh    but    after  the 

lit.  Aye,  I  do  mind  that  day  at  Kells.  A  gale  from 
the  Lord  blew  about  us  that  day.  So  you  are  Harry  of 
the  Eude  Hand,  and  you  have  fallen  into  sin  ?  Ah,  you 
must  not  come  to  me — you  must  to  the  Master!  You 
had  better  have  gone  to  your  closet,  and  worn  the  whin- 
stone  a  little  with  the  knees  of  your  breeks.  And  yet  I 
ken  not.  None  hath  heen  a  greater  sinner  or  known 
greater  mercy  than  Samuel  Rutherfurd.  I  am  sum- 
moned by  the  Star  Chamber — I  go  to  the  chamber  of 
Stars.  I  will  see  the  King.  I  will  carrj  Eim  your 
message,  Harry.  Fear  not,  the  young  man  you  smote 
will  recover.    He  will  yet  bless  you  for  laying  a  hand  on 


264  THE   LITTLE   FAIR   MAN 

him,  even  as  this  day  you  acknowledge  the  unworthy 
servant  who  on  the  greensward  of  Keils  called  you  out 
of  darkness  into  His  marvellous  light. 

"  'Sir,  fare  you  well.  Go  home  to  your  wife,  nothing 
doubting.  This  night  shall  close  the  door.  At  five  of 
the  morning  I  will  fasten  my  anchor  within  the  veil.' 

"  And  even  as  he  said  so  it  was.  He  passed  away, 
and,  as  for  me,  secure  that  he  would  carry  my  message 
to  the  Alone  Forgiver  of  Sins  I  returned  home  to  find 
the  youth  recovered  and  penitent.  He  afterwards  be- 
came a  noted  professor  and  field  preacher,  and  died  seal- 
ing his  testimony  with  his  blood  on  the  victorious  field 
of  Loudon  Hill. 

"  This  is  the  testimony  of  me,  Harry  Wedderburn, 
sometime  called  Strength-o'-Airm,  who  now  in  the  val- 
ley of  peace  and  a  restored  Israel  wait  the  consumma- 
tion of  all  things.  Being  very  lonely,  I  write  these 
things  out  to  pass  the  time  till  I,  too,  cast  mine  anchor 
within  the  veil.  And  I  cheer  myself  with  thinking  that 
two  shall  meet  me  there,  one  on  either  side  of  the  gate  — 
Rachel,  my  heart's  dear  partner,  and  the  Little  Fair  Man, 
who  will  take  by  either  hand  and  lead  into  the  presence 
of  the  Friend,  poor  unworthy  Harry  Wedderburn,  some- 
time bond-slave  of  sin,  but  now  servant  most  unprofitable 
of  the  Lord." 

Note  by  Mr.  John  Wedderburn.  —  "  My  father  departed  this 
life  on  the  morning  after  finishing  this  paper,  sleeping  quietly  away 
about  five  of  the  clock." 


MY  FATHER'S   LOVE   STORY 

When  I  am  putting  together  family  stones,  new  and 
old,  I  may  as  well  tell  my  father's.  Sometimes  we  of  a 
younger  day  thought  him  stiff,  silent,  out  of  sympathy 
with  our  interests  and  amusements  ;  but  the  saving  salt 
of  humour  that  was  in  him  made  this  only  seeming.  In 
reality  tolerance  and  kindliest  understanding  beaconed 
from  under  the  covert  of  his  bushy  gray  eyebrows. 

There  was  the  savour  of  an  infinite  discernment  in  the 
slow  "  Aye  ?  "  with  which  he  was  wont  to  receive  any 
doubtful  statement.  My  mother  said  ever  ten  words  for 
his  one,  and  it  was  his  wont  to  listen  to  her  gravely  and 
unsmilingly,  as  if  giving  the  subject  the  profoundest 
attention,  while  all  the  time  his  thoughts  wrere  far  away 
—  a  fact  well  understood  and  much  resented  by  his  wife. 

"  What  am  I  talkin'  aboot,  Saunders  ?  "  she  would  say, 
pausing  in  the  midst  of  a  commination  upon  some  new 
and  garish  fashion  in  dress,  or  the  late  hours  kept  by 
certain  young  men  not  a  thousand  miles  away. 

"  Oh,  breaking  the  second  commandment,  as  usual,"  he 
would  reply ;  "  discoursing  of  the  heavens  above,  the 
earth  beneath,  and  the  waters  under  the  earth  ! " 

"  Havers,"  she  would  reply,  her  face,  however,  glancing 
at  him  bright  as  a  new-milled  shilling,  "your  thochts 
were  awa'  on  the  mountains  o'  vainity !  Naething  richt 
waukens  ye  up  but  a  minister  to  argue  wi' ! " 

And,  indeed,  that  was  a  true  word.      For  though  an 


266  MY  FATHER'S   LOVE   STORY 

unusually  silent  man,  my  father,  Alexander  (or  Saunders) 
McQuhirr,  liked  nothing  better  than  a  minister  to  argue 
with  —  if  one  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  well  and  good. 
There  was  the  Revolution  Settlement,  the  Headship  of 
Christ,  the  Power  of  the  Civil  Magistrate.  My  father 
enjoyed  himself  thoroughly,  and  if  the  minister  chanced 
to  be  worthy,  so  did  he.  But  it  took  a  Cameronian  or  an 
Original  Secession  divine  really  to  rouse  within  him 
what  my  mother  called  "his  bowels  of  wrath." 

"  There  is  a  distinct  Brownist  strain  in  your  opinions, 
Alexander,"  Mr.  Osbourne  would  say  —  his  own  minister 
from  the  Kirk  on  the  Hill.  "  Your  father's  name  was 
not  Abel  for  nothing ! "  1 

Mr.  Osbourne  generally  reminded  him  of  this  when  he 
had  got  the  worse  of  some  argument  on  the  true  inward- 
ness of  the  Marrow  Controversy.  He  did  not  like  to  be 
beaten,  and  my  father  was  a  dour  arguer.  Once  it  is 
recorded  that  the  minister  brought  all  the  way  up  to 
Drumquhat  on  a  Communion  Friday — the  "  off-day  "  as  it 
were  of  the  Scottish  Holy  Week  —  the  great  Dr.  Marcus 
Lawton  himself  from  Edinburgh.  It  happened  to  be  a 
wettish  clay  in  the  lull  between  hay  and  harvest.  My 
father  was  doing  something  in  the  outhouse  where  he 
kept  his  joinering  tools,  and  the  two  ministers  joined  him 
there  early  in  the  forenoon.  They  were  well  into  "  Free- 
will "  before  my  father  was  at  the  end  of  the  board  he 
had  been  planing.  "Predestination"  was  the  overword 
of  their  conversation   at   the   noonday   meal,  which  all 

1  "  Abel,"  "Jacob,"  "  Abraham,"  were  not  common  names  in  Scot- 
land, and  such  as  occurred  in  families  during  last  century  might 
generally  be  traced  to  the  time  of  Cromwellian  occupation.  David 
and  Samuel  were  the  only  really  commou  Old  Testament  names  at  that 
time. 


MY    FATHER'S    LOVE   STokY  207 

threo  seemed  to  partake  of  as  dispassionately  us  if  they 
had  been  stoking  a  fire  —  this  to  the  udignation  of 

my  mother,  who,  having  been  warn.  ,1  of  the  proposed 
honour,  had  given  herself  even  more  completely  to 
hospitality  than  was  habitual  with  her. 

Mr.  Osbourne,  indeed,  made  a  pretext  of  talking  to  her 
about  the  price  of  butter,  and  how  her  hens  were  laying. 
But  she  saw  through  him  even  as  he  spoke. 

For,  as  she  said  afterwards,  describing  the  scene,  "I 
saw  his  lug  cockit  for  what  the  ither  twa  were  saying, 
and  if  it  hadna  been  for  the  restrainin'  grace  o'  God,  I 
declare  I  wad  hae  tolled  him  that  butter  was  a  guinea  a 
pound  in  Dumfries  market,  and  that  my  hens  were  laying 
a  score  o'  eggs  apiece  every  day  —  he  never  wad  hae 
kenned  that  I  was  tellin'  him  a  lee ! " 

All  day  the  great  controversy  went  on.  Even  now 
I  can  remember  the  echoes  of  it  coming  to  me  through 
the  wet  green  leaves  of  the  mallows  my  mother  had 
planted  along  the  south-looking  wall.  To  this  day  I  can 
hear  the  drip  of  the  water  from  the  slates  mingling  with 
such  phrases  as  "  the  divine  sovereignty,"  the  "  Covenant 
of  Works,"  "  the  Adamic  dispensation."  I  see  the  pur- 
ple of  the  flowers  and  smell  the  sweet  smell  of  the  pine 
shavings.  They  seemed  to  my  childish  mind  like  three 
Titans  hurling  the  longest  words  in  the  dictionary  at 
each  other.  1  know  nothing  wherewith  to  express  the 
effect  upon  my  mind  of  this  day-long  conflict  save  that 
great  line  in  the  fifth  book  of  Paradise  Lost: 

"Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  vertues,  powers  !  " 

It  was  years  after  when  first  I  read  it,  but  instantly  I 
thought  of  that  wet  summer  day  in  Lammastide.  when 


268  MY   FATHEE'S   LOVE   STORY 

my  father  wrestled  with  his  peers  concerning  the  deep 
things  of  eternity,  and  was  not  overcome. 

My  mother  has  often  told  me  that  he  never  slept  all 
that  night  —  how  waking  in  the  dawn  and  finding  his 
place  vacant,  she  had  hastily  thrown  on  a  gown  and  gone 
out  to  look  for  him.  He  was  walking  up  and  down  in 
the  little  orchard  behind  the  barn,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back.  And  all  he  said  in  answer  to  her 
reproaches  was :  "  It's  vexin',  Mary,  to  think  that  I  only 
minded  that  text  in  Ephesians  about  being  '  sealed  unto 
the  day  of  redemption '  after  he  was  ower  the  hill.  It 
wad  hae  ta'en  the  feet  clean  frae  him  if  I  had  gotten 
haud  o'  it  in  time." 

"  What  can  ye  do  wi'  a  man  like  that  ?  "  she  would 
conclude,  summing  up  her  husband's  character,  mostly 
in  his  hearing. 

"  But  remember,  Mary,  the  pit  from  which  I  was 
digged ! "  he  would  reply,  reaching  down  the  worn  old 
leather-bound  copy  of  Boston's  Fourfold  State  out  of  the 
wall-press  and  settling  himself  to  re-peruse  a  favourite 
chapter. 

■if  -1r  *1F  -if  tF  *ff 

My  father's  father,  Yabel  McQuhirr,  was  a  fierce  hard 
man,  and  seldom  showed  his  heart,  ruling  his  house  with 
a  rod  of  iron,  setting  each  in  his  place,  wife,  child,  man- 
servant and  maid-servant,  ox  and  ass  —  aye,  and  the 
stranger  within  his  gates. 

My  father  does  not  talk  of  these  things,  but  my  mother 
has  often  told  me  of  that  strange  household  up  among 
the  granite  hills,  to  which,  as  a  maid  of  nineteen,  she 
went  to  serve.  In  those  days  in  all  the  Galloway  farm- 
towns,  master  and  servant  sat  down  together  to  meals. 


MY    FATHER'S   LOVE   STORY  269 

The  head  of  the  house  was  lawgiver  and  potentate, 
priest  and  parent,  to  all  beneath  his  roof.  And  if  Yabel 
McQuhirr  of  Ardmannoch  did  not  exercise  the  right  of 
pit  and  gallows,  it  was  about  all  the  authority  he  did  not 
claim  over  his  own. 

Yabel  had  a  family  of  strong  sons,  silent,  dour  —  the 
doctrine  of  unquestioning  obedience  driven  into  them  by 
their  father's  right  arm  and  oaken  staff.  But  their  love 
was  for  their  mother,  who  drifted  through  the  house 
with  a  foot  light  as  a  falling  leaf,  and  a  voice  attuned  to 
the  murmuring  of  a  hill  stream.  There  was  no  daughter 
in  the  household,  and  Mary  McArthur  had  ccme  partly 
to  supply  the  want.  She  had  brought  a  sore  little  heart 
with  her,  all  because  of  a  certain  ship  that  had  gone  over 
the  sea,  and  the  glint  of  a  sailor  lad's  merry  blue  eyes 
she  would  see  no  more. 

She  had  therefore  no  mind  for  love-making,  and 
Thomas  and  Abel,  the  two  eldest  sons,  got  very  short 
answers  for  their  pains  when  they  "tried  their  hand" 
on  their  mother's  new  house-lass.  Tom,  the  eldest,  took 
it  well  enough,  and  went  elsewhere  ;  but  Abel  was  a 
bully  by  nature,  and  would  not  let  the  girl  alone.  Once 
he  kissed  her  by  force  as,  hand-tied,  she  carried  in  the 
peats  from  the  stack.  Whereupon  Alexander,  the  silent 
third  brother,  found  out  the  reason  of  Mary's  red  eyes, 
and  interviewed  his  brother  behind  the  barn  to  such  pur- 
pose that  his  face  bore  the  marks  of  fraternal  knuckles 
for  a  week.     Also  Alexander  had  his  lip  split. 

"Ye  hae  been  fechtin'  again,  ye  blakes,"  thundered 
their  father.  "Mind  ye,  if  this  happens  again  I  will 
break  every  bane  in  your  bodies.  I  will  have  you  know 
that  I  am  a  man  of  peace !  How  did  you  get  that  black 
eye,  Yabel  ?  " 


270  MY  FATHER'S   LOVE   STORY 

"  I  trippit  ower  the  shaft  o'  a  cairt ! "  said  Abel,  lying 
glibly  in  fear  of  consequences. 

"  And  you,  Alexander  —  where  gat  ye  that  lip  ?  " 

"  I  ran  against  something ! "  said  the  defender  of  inno- 
cence, succinctly.  And  stuck  to  it  stubbornly,  refusing 
all  amplification. 

"Well,"  said  their  father,  grimly,  "take  considerably 
more  heed  to  your  going,  both  of  ye,  or  you  may  run 
against  something  more  serious  still !  " 

Then  he  whistled  on  his  dogs,  and  went  up  the  dyke- 
side  towards  the  hill. 

****** 

After  this,  Alexander  always  carried  in  the  peats  for 
Mary  Mc Arthur,  and,  in  spite  of  the  taunts  and  gibes  of 
his  brothers,  did  such  part  of  her  work  as  lay  outside  the 
house.  On  winter  nights  and  mornings  he  lighted  the 
stable  lantern  for  her  before  she  went  to  milk  the  kye, 
and  then  when  she  was  come  to  the  byre  he  took  his 
mother's  stool  and  pail  and  milked  beside  her  cow  for 
cow. 

All  these  things  he  did  without  speaking  a  word  of 
love,  or,  indeed,  saying  a  word  of  anything  beyond  the 
commonplaces  of  a  country  life.  He  never  told  her 
whether  or  no  he  had  heard  about  the  sailor  lad  who 
had  gone  over  seas. 

Indeed,  he  never  referred  to  the  subject  throughout  a 
long  lifetime.  All  the  same,  I  think  he  must  have  sus- 
pected, and  with  natural  gentleness  and  courtesy  set 
himself  to  ease  the  girl's  heartsore  burden. 

Sometimes  Mary  would  raise  her  eyes  and  catch  him 
looking  at  her  —  that  was  all.  And  more  often  she  was 
conscious  of  his  grave  staid  regard  when  she  did  not  look 


MV    FATHER'S   LOVE    STORT  271 

up.     At  first  it  fretted  her  a  little.      For,  of  ruin- 
could  never  love  again —  never  believe  any  ma  >rd. 
Life  was  ended  for  her  —  ended  at  nineteen!    So  at  least 
Mary  .M- Arthur  told  herself. 

But  all  the  same,  there  —  a  pillar  for  support,  a 
buckler  for  defence,  was  Alexander  McQuhirr,  strong, 
undemonstrative,  dependable.  One  day  she  had  cut  her 
finger,  and  he  was  rolling  it  up  for  her  daintily  as  a 
woman.  They  were  alone  in  the  shearing  field  together. 
Alexander  had  the  lint  and  the  thread  in  his  pocket. 
So,  indeed,  he  anticipated  her  wants  silently  all  his  life. 

It  had  hurt  a  good  deal,  and  before  he  had  finished 
the  tears  stood  brimming  in  her  e}'es. 

"I  think  you  must  get  tired  of  me.  I  bring  all  my 
cut  fingers  to  you,  Alec  !"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him. 

He  gave  a  kind  of  gasp,  as  if  he  were  going  to  say 
something,  as  a  single  drop  of  salt  water  pearled  itself 
and  ran  down  Mary's  cheek;  but  instead  he  only  folded 
the  lint  more  carefully  in  at  the  top,  and  went  on  rolling 
the  thread  round  it. 

"  She  is  learnin'  to  love  me ! "  he  thought,  with  some 
pleasure,  but  he  was  too  bashful  and  diffident  to  t 
advantage  of  her  feeling.  He  contented  himself  with 
making  her  life  easier  and  sweeter  in  that  hard  upland 
cantonment  of  more  than  military  discipline,  from  whose 
rocky  soil  Yabel  and  his  sons  dragged  the  bare  neces- 
sities of  life,  as  it  were,  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

All  the  time  he  was  thinking  hard  behind  his  broad 
forehead,  this  quiet  Alexander  McQuhirr.  He  was  the 
third  son.  His  father  was  a  poor  man.  He  had  noth- 
ing to  look  for  from  him.  In  time  Tom  would  succeed 
to  the  farm.      It  was  clear,  then,  that  if  he  was  ever  to 


272  MY  FATHER'S   LOVE   STORY 

be  anything,  he  must  strike  out  early  for  himself.  And, 
as  many  a  time  before  and  since,  it  was  the  tears  in  the 
eyes  of  a  girl  that  brought  matters  to  the  breaking 
point. 

Yes,  just  the  wet  eyes  of  a  girl  —  that  is,  of  Mary 
McArthur,  as  she  looked  up  at  him  suddenly  in  the  har- 
vest-field among  the  serried  lines  of  stooks,  and  said:  "I 
bring  all  my  cut  fingers  to  you,  Alec !  " 

Something,  he  knew  not  exactly  what,  appealed  to 
him  so  strongly  in  that  word  and  look,  that  resolve  came 
upon  him  sudden  as  lightning,  and  binding  as  an  oath  — 
the  man's  instinct  to  be  all  and  to  do  all  for  the  woman 
he  loves. 

He  was  unusually  silent  during  the  rest  of  the  day, 
so  that  Mary  McArthur,  walking  beside  him  down  the 
loaning  to  bring  home  the  cows,  said :  "  You  are  no 
vexed  wi'  me  for  ony thing,  Alec  ?  " 

But  it  was  the  man's  soul  of  Saunders  McQuhirr 
which  had  come  to  him  as  a  birthright  —  born  out  of  a 
glance.  He  was  a  boy  no  longer.  And  that  night,  as 
his  father,  Yabel,  stood  looking  over  his  scanty  acres 
with  a  kind  of  grim  satisfaction  in  the  golden  array  of 
corn  stooks,  his  son  Alexander  went  quietly  up  to  him. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "next  week  I  shall  be  one-and- 
twenty  ! "  In  times  of  stress  they  spoke  the  English  of 
the  schools  and  of  the  Bible. 

His  father  turned  a  deep-set  irascible  eye  upon  him. 
The  thick  over-brooding  brows  lowered  convulsively 
above  him.  A  kind  of  illuminating  flash  like  faint  sheet 
lightning  passed  over  the  stern  face.  A  week  ago,  nay, 
even  twenty-four  hours  ago,  Saunders  McQuhirr  would 
have  trembled  to  have  his  father  look  at  him  thus.     But 


MY    FATHER'S    LOVE   STORY  273 

—  he  had  bound  up  a  girl's  finger  jince  then,  and  seen 

her  eyes  wet. 

"Well,   what  of  that?"     The  words   came    fiercely 

from  Yabel,  with  a  rising  anger  in  them,  a  kind  of  trum- 
pet blare  heralding  the  storm. 

"I  am  thinking  of  taking  a  herd's  place  at  the  term  !  " 
said  Alexander,  quietly. 

Yabel  lifted  his  great  body  off  the  dyke-top,  on  which 
he   had   been   leaning   with  his  elbows.     He  towered  a 
good  four  inches  above  his  son,  though  my  father  v, 
always  considered  a  tall  man. 

"You — you  are  going  to  take  a  herd's  place  —  at  the 
term  —  you?'''  he  said  slowly  and  incredulously. 

"Yes,"  answered  his  son;  "you  will  not  need  me. 
There  is  no  outgate  for  me  here,  and  I  have  my  way  to 
make  in  the  world." 

"  And  what  need  have  you  of  an  outgate,  sir  ?  "  cried 
his  father.     "Have  I  housed  you  and  schooled  you  ami 
reared  you  that,  when  at  last  you  are  of  some  use,  \ 
should  leave  your  father  and  mother  at  a  word,  like  a 
day-labourer  on  Saturday  night '.'  " 

"A  day-labourer  on  Saturday  night  gets  his  wages  —  1 
have  not  asked  for  any  !  " 

At  this  answer  Yabel  stood  tempestuously  wrathful  for 
a  moment,  his  hand  and  arm  uplifted  and  twitching  to 
strike.    Then  all  suddenly  his  mood  changed.     It  bee;;: 
scornfully  ironic. 

•  1  see,"  he  said,  dropping  his  arm.  "there's  a  lass  !"•- 
hind  this  —  that  is  the  meaning  of  all  the  peat-carry 
and  byre-milking   and   handfasting   in   corners.      Well, 
sirrah.  I  give  you  this  one  night.     In  the  morning  you 
shall   pack.     From  this   instant    T    forbid   you  to  toueh 


274  MY   FATHER'S  LOVE   STORY 

aught  belonging  to  me,  corn  or  fodder,  horse  or  bestial. 
Ye  shall  tramp,  lad,  you  and  your  madam  with  you. 
The  day  is  not  yet,  thank  the  Lord,  when  Abel  McQuhirr 
is  not  master  in  his  own  house  ! " 

But  the  son  that  had  been  a  boy  was  now  a  man.  He 
stood  before  his  father,  giving  him  back  glance  for 
glance.  And  an  observer  would  have  seen  a  great  simi- 
larity between  the  two,  the  same  attitude  to  a  line,  the 
massive  head  thrown  back,  the  foot  advanced,  the  deep- 
set  eye,  the  compressed  mouth. 

"  Very  well,  father ! "  said  Alexander  McQuhirr,  and 
he  went  away,  carrying  his  bonnet  in  his  hand. 
#  #  #  *  #  * 

And  on  the  morning  that  followed  the  sleepless  night 
of  thinking  and  planning,  Alexander  McQuhirr  went 
forth  to  face  the  world,  his  plaid  about  his  shoulders,  his 
staff  in  his  hand,  his  mother's  blessing  upon  his  head  — 
and,  what  was  most  of  all  to  a  young  man,  his  sweet- 
heart's kiss  upon  his  lips. 

For  in  this  part  of  his  mandate  Yabel  had  reckoned 
without  his  host.  His  wife,  long  trained  to  keep  silence 
for  the  sake  of  peace,  had  turned  and  openly  defied  him  — 
nay,  had  won  the  victory.  The  "Man  of  Wrath"  knew 
exactly  how  far  it  was  wise  to  push  the  doctrine  of  un- 
questioning wifely  obedience.  Mary  McArthur  was  to 
bide  still  where  she  was,  till — well,  till  another  home  was 
ready  for  her.  And  though  her  eyes  were  red,  and  there 
was  no  one  to  tie  up  her  cut  fingers  any  more,  there  was 
a  kind  of  pride  upon  her  face  too.  And  the  image  of 
the  young  sailor-man  over  seas  utterly  faded  away. 

At   ten   by  the  clock,  Yabel  McQuhirr,  down  in  hia 
harvest-field,  saw  his  son  set  out.     He  gave  no  farewell. 


.MY    FATHER'S    LOVE   STORT  275 

He  waved  no  hand.  He  said  qo  word.  All  the  same,  he 
.smiled  grimly  to  himself  behind  the  obedient  bach  of 
Tom  and  A.bel  the  younger. 

"There's  the  best  stuff  o'  the  lot  in  that  tide  Laddie," 
he  growled  ;  " even  so  for  a  lass's  sake  b  It  1  my  fath< 
house  !  " 

And  of  all  his  children,  this  dour,  hard-mouthed,  :-,rnarl- 
fisted  man  Loved  best  the  boy  who  for  the  sake  of  a  la 
had  outea.sted   himself   without  fear  and  without  hesi- 
tation. 

It  was  to  a  herd's  house,  shining  white  on  a  hillside, 
a  burnie  trilling  below,  the  red  heather  surging  ab 
the  garden  dyke  on  all  sides,  that  Alexander  McQuhirr 
took  his  wile  Mary,  a  year  later.  And  there  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time  my  brother  Willie  was  born  —  the  child 
of  the  cothouse  and  of  the  kailyaird.  In  time  followed 
other,if  not  better,  things  —  first  a  small  holding,  then  a 
farm  —  then  I,  Alexander  the  second.  And  still,  thank 
God,  we,  the  children  of  Mary  McArthur,  run  with  (un- 
cut fingers  to  that  steadfast,  loving,  silent  man,  Saunders 
McQuhirr,  son  of  Yabel,  the  Man  of  Violence  and  Wrath. 


THE    MAN   OF    WRATH 

A  man  of  wrath  was  my  grandfather,  Yabel  McQuhirr, 
from  his  youth  up.  And  I  am  now  going  to  tell  the 
story  of  how  by  a  strange  providence  he  was  turned 
aside  from  the  last  sin  of  Judas,  and  how  he  became  in 
his  latter  days  a  man  of  peace  and  a  lover  of  young 
children. 

He  was  my  father's  father,  and  I  have  already  told 
how  that  son  of  his  to  whom  I  owe  my  life,  went  forth 
to  make  a  new  hearthstone  warm  and  bright  for  the  girl 
who  was  to  be  my  mother.  But  after  the  departure  of  that 
third  son,  darker  and  darker  descended  the  gloom  upon 
the  lonely  uplying  farm.  Fiercer  and  ever  fiercer  fell 
the  angers  of  Yabel  McQuhirr  upon  his  remaining  chil- 
dren, Thomas  and  Abel  —  the  latter  named  after  his 
father,  but  whose  Christian  name  never  acquired  the 
antique  and  preliminary  "  Y "  that  marks  the  border- 
line between  the  old  and  the  new. 

One  dismal  Monday  morning  in  the  back-end  of  the 
year  there  were  bitter  words  spoken  in  the  barn  at  the 
threshing,  between  Thomas  and  his  father.  Retort 
followed  retort,  till,  with  knotted  fist,  the  father  savagely 
felled  the  youth  to  the  ground.  There  was  blood  upon 
the  dean  yellow  straw  when  he  rose.  Thomas  went 
indoors,  opened  his  little  chest,  took  from  it  all  the  money 
he  had,  shook  hands  silently  with  his  mother,  and  took 
his  way  over  the  Rig  of  Bennanbrack,  never  to  be  heard 
of  more. 

276 


THE    MAN    OF    WRATH  L'77 

And  after  this  ever  closer  and  closer  Fabel  McQuhirr 
shut  the  door  of  his  heart.  He  hardened  himself  un 
the  weight  of  his  wife's  gentle  sufferance  and  reproachful 
silences.  Pie  gripped  his  hands  together  when,  with  the 
corner  of  an  eye  that  would  not  humble  itself  to  lo 
he  saw  the  tear  trickling  down  the  wasted  cheek.  Be 
uttered  no  word  of  sorrow  for  the  past,  nor  did  the  name 
of  either  of  his  departed  sons  pass  his  lips. 

Nevertheless,  he  grew  markedly  kinder  in  deed  to 
Abel,  the  one  son  who  remained  —  not  much  kinder  in 
word  perhaps,  for  still  that  loud  and  angry  voice  could 
be  heard  coming  from  field  and  meadow,  barn  or  byre, 
till  the  fearful  mother  would  steal  silent-footed  to  the 
kitchen-door  lest  the  last  part  of  her  threefold  sorrow 
should  indeed  have  come  upon  her.  But  not  in  this 
manner  was  the  blow  to  fall. 

Abel  was  the  least  worthy  but  greatly  the  handsomest 
of  the  sons  of  Yabel  McQuhirr.  He  had  a  large  visiting 
acquaintance  among  the  farm-towns,  and  often  did  not 
seek  his  garret-bed  till  the  small  hours  of  the  morning. 
Then  his  mother,  awake  and  vigilant,  would  incline  her 
ear  on  the  pillow  to  hear  whether  her  husband  was  asleep 
beside  her. 

Now,  oftentimes  Yabel,  her  husband,  slept  not,  yet  for 
his  wife's  sake,  and  perhaps  because  Abel,  with  his 
bright  smile  and  clean-limbed  figure,  reminded  him  of  a 
wild  youth  he  had  long  put  behind  him,  he  bore  with  the 
lad,  even  to  giving  him  in  one  short  year  more  money  to 
spend  than  had  been  his  brothers'  portion  during  all  the 
time  they  had  faithfully  served  their  father. 

And  this  was  not  good  for  a  young  man. 

So  that  early  one  spring,  the  wild  oat  crop  that  Abel 


278  THE   MAN   OF   WRATH 

had  been  sowing  began  to  appear  with  braird  and  luxu- 
riant shoot.  A  whisper  overran  the  parish  swifter  than 
the  moor-burn  when  the  heather  is  dry  on  the  moors. 
Two  names  were  coupled  not  unto  honour.  And  on  a 
certain  wild  March  morning,  Yabel  McQuhirr,  having 
called  his  son  three  times,  clambered  fiercely  up  to  the 
little  garret  stair  to  find  an  open  skylight,  a  pallet-bed 
not  slept  in,  and  a  home  that  was  now  childless  from 
flagged  hearth  to  smoke-browned  roof-tree. 

Yabel  rode  to  market  upon  Mary  Gray,  his  old  rough- 
fetlocked  mare,  once  badger-gray,  but  now  white  as  the 
sea-gulls  that  fluttered  and  settled  upon  his  springtime 
furrows.  He  heard  no  word  of  the  story  of  Abel  his 
son  and  the  gypsy  lass,  for  none  durst  tell  him  —  till  one 
Rob  Ginnery  of  Barscob,  bolder  or  drunker  than  the  rest, 
blurted  it  out  with  an  oath  and  a  scurvy  jest.  The  next 
moment  he  was  smitten  down,  and  Yabel  McQuhirr  stood 
over  him  with  his  riding-whip  clubbed  in  his  hand,  the 
fierce  irascible  eyebrows  twitching,  and  wide  nostrils 
blown  out  with  the  breath  of  the  man's  wrath. 

But  certain  good  friends,  strong-armed  men  of  peace, 
held  him  back,  and  got  Girmory  away  to  a  quiet  cart- 
shed,  where,  on  a  heap  of  straw,  he  could  sleep  off  his 
stupor  and  awake  to  wonder  what  had  given  him  that 
lump,  great  as  a  hen's  egg,  over  his  right  eye. 

As  for  Yabel  McQuhirr  be  saddled  Mary  Gray  and 
took  the  road  homeward  lest  anjr  should  bring  the  story 
first  to  his  wife.  For  Jen,  his  Jen,  was  the  kernel  of 
that  rough-husked,  hard-shelled  heart.  And  as  he  rode, 
he  cursed  Girmory  with  the  slow  studied  anathema  of 
the   Puritan  —  which   is   not    swearing,  but   something 


THE   MAK    OF    \\  BATH  279 

sterner,  Bolemner,  more  enduring.     Sometimes  he  would 
cheat    himself  by  saying  over  and  over  thai  there  v. 
Dothing  in  the  story.     Abel  had  gone  in  hi 
to  a  neighbouring  town  —  he  knew  the  lad  had  a  poi. 
or  two  that  burnt  a  hole  in  his  spendthrift  pocket.     Be 
would  lit  urn  penitent  when  it  was  finished.     And  the 
old  man  found  himself  already  '-'busing"  with  ang  1. 
and   thinking   of   what  he   would   say  to  the  returned 
prodig  i  he  caught  sight  of  him  —  a  greeting  which 

would  certainly  not   have   run   upon   the   lines   of   tin- 
parable. 

Set,  as  he  went  on  and  on.  fear  began  to  enter  in,  and 
he  set  his  spurless  heels  grimly  to  Mary  Gray's  well- 
padded  ribs.  Never  had  that  sober  steed  gone  home  at 
such  a  pace,  and  on  brown,  windy  braefaces  ploughmen 
stood  wiping  their  brows  and  watching  and  wondering. 
Shepherds,  high  on  the  hills,  set  their  palms  horizontally 
above  their  brows  and  murmured,  ';  What's  takin'  auld 
Yabel  haine  at  sic  a  pelt  this  day,  as  if  the  111  Yin 
himsel'  were  after  him  '.'  " 

But  for  all  his  haste,  some  one  had  forestalled  him. 
The  busybody  in  other  men's  matters,  the  waspish  gossip 
to  whom  the  carrying  of  ill  tidings  is  a  chief  joy,  had 
been  before  him.  Mary  Gray  had  sweated  in  vain. 
There  was  no  one  to  be  heard  stirring  as  he  tramped 
eagerly  in — no  one  flitting  softly  to  and  fro  in  milk- 
house  or  dairy. 

But  within  Yabel  McQuhirr  found  his  wife  fallen  by 
the  bake-board  near  the  window,  where  she  had  been  at 
work  when  the  Messenger  <>i  Evil  entered  to  do  her  fell 
work.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  hands  limp  and  numb. 
"With  a  hoarse  inarticulate  cry  of  rage  Yabel  raised 


280  THE   MAN    OF   WRATH 

wife  and  carried  her  to  the  neatly-made  bed  with  the 
patchwork  quilt  upon  it.     There  he  laid  her  down. 

"Jen,"  he  said,  more  gently  than  one  could  have  be- 
lieved the  rough  harsh  Man  of  Wrath  could  have  spoken, 
"  Jen,  waken,  lassie.  It's  maybe  no  true.  I  tak'  it  on 
my  soul  it's  no  true  !  " 

But  on  his  wife's  face  there  remained  a  strange  fixed 
smile,  and  her  eyes,  opening  slowly,  began  to  follow  him 
about  wistfully,  and  seemed  somehow  to  beckon  him. 
Then  with  infinite  care  Yabel  removed  his  wife's  outer 
garments,  cutting  that  which  would  not  loosen  otherwise, 
till  the  stricken  woman  reposed  at  ease  beneath  the 
coverlet. 

"  Now,  Jen,"  he  said,  "  I  maun  ride  to  the  town  for  a 
doctor.  Will  I  tell  Allison  Brown  to  come  and  look 
after  you  ?  " 

The  wistful  following  eyes  expressed  neither  yea  nor 
nay. 

"  Then  will  I  send  in  Jean  Murray  frae  the  Boreland  ?  " 

The  eyes  were  still  indifferent.  There  was  no  desire 
for  the  help  of  any  of  human  kind  in  the  stricken  woman's 
heart. 

Her  husband  watched  her  keenly. 

"  Or  wad  ye  like  Martha  Yeatman  ower  frae  the  Glen  ?  " 

Then  all  suddenly  the  dull  eyes  flashed,  glowed,  almost 
flamed,  so  fierce  was  the  "  No  "  that  was  in  them. 

Yabel  shut  down  his  upper  lip  upon  his  nether.  He 
nodded  his  head. 

"  Then  I  will  bring  the  doctor,  and  nurse  you  mysel'," 
he  answered.  But  within  him  he  said  :  "  So  it  was  Martha 
o'  the  Glen.  For  this  thing  will  I  reckon  with  Martha 
Yeatman." 


THE    .MAN    OF    VVKATH  281 

It  was  fortunate  for  Mary  Gray  that  the  distance  was 
not  long,  for,  like  Jehu  the  son  of  Nimshi,  Yabel  Die 
Quhirr  drave  furiously.  But  at  the  bend  of  the  highway 
called  the  Far-away  Turn,  just  at  the  point  at  which  the 
road  dives  down  under  a  tangle  of  birch  and  alder,  the 
old  white  mare  was  pulled  suddenly  up.  Fur  there  was 
Dr.  Brydson,  riding  cautiously  on  his  little  round-bar- 
relled sheltie,  his  saddle-bags  in  front  of  him,  and  a 
silver-headed  Malacca  cane  held  in  his  hand  like  a  rid- 
ing-whip. 

It  was  no  long  time  before  the  good  old  doctor  was 
raising  the  lax  head  of  Yabel  McQuhirr's  wife.  The 
strange  distant  smile  was  still  in  her  eyes,  and  the  left 
corner  of  her  mouth  twitched. 

"  She  has  had  a  shock,"  said  Dr.  Brydson,  slowly,  when 
Yabel  and  he  had  withdrawn  a  little.  He  was  pulling 
his  chin  meditatively,  and  not  thinking  much  of  the 
husband. 

"A  stroke  !  "  said  Yabel,  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  was 
so  strange  and  terrible  that  the  doctor  turned  quickly  — 
"  but  not  unto  death !  You  can  cure  her  —  surely  you 
can  cure  her  ?  " 

And  he  caught  the  doctor  by  the  arm  and  shook  it 
vehemently. 

"  Take  your  hands  away,  sir,  and  calm  yourself  !  "  said 
the  physician.  "  If  I  am  to  do  anything,  we  must  have 
none  of  this." 

"  Say  that  she  will  not  die  !  "  he  cried.  And  the  deep- 
set  angry  eyes  flamed  down  upon  the  physician,  the  great 
fists  of  iron  were  clenched. 

Dr.  Brydson  was  a  little  man,  but  a  long  course  of 
being  deferred  to  had  given  him  great  local  dignity. 


282  THE   MAN   OF    WRATH 

"  I  will  say  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir/'"  he  retorted.  "  I 
will  do  what  I  can;  but  this  thing  is  the  visitation  of 
God,  and  human  skill  avails  but  little.  Stand  away  from 
my  patient,  sir." 

But  at  that  moment  a  sudden  and  wondrous  change 
passed  over  the  face  of  Yabel  McQuhirr.  The  physician 
was  startled.  It  was  like  an  earthquake  rifting  and 
changing  a  landscape  while  one  looks.  In  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  the  fashion  of  Yabel's  countenance  was  altered. 
He  would  have  wept,  yet  stood  gasping  like  one  who 
knows  not  the  way  to  weep.  Instead  he  uttered  a  hoarse 
and  terrible  cry,  and  flung  himself  upon  his  knees  by  the 
bed. 

"Jen,"  he  cried,  "Jen  —  speak  to  me,  Jen  —  to  your 
ain  man  Yabel !  Say  that  this  man  lies !  Tell  me  ye 
are  no  gaun  to  dee,  Jen  —  Jen,  my  Jen  !  " 

And  at  the  voice  of  that  strange  crying  the  doctor 
stood  back,  for  he  knew  that  no  earthly  physician  had 
power  to  stay  a  soul's  agony. 

Then,  like  a  tide  that  wells  up  full  to  the  floodmark, 
the  slow  love  rose  in  the  eyes  of  his  wife.  Her  lips 
moved.  He  bent  his  head  eagerly.  They  seemed  to 
form  his  name. 

«  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  eagerly,  «  <  Yabel,  Yabel,'  I  hear 
that!  What  mair?  Tell  me  — oh,  tell  me,  ye  are  no 
gaun  to  leave  me !  " 

He  bent  his  head  lower,  holding  his  breath  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  own  heart  as  if  to  still  its  dull,  thick 
beating.  But  though  the  pallid  lips  seemed  to  move,  no 
words  came,  and  Yabel  McQuhirr  heaved  up  his  head 
and  struck  his  palm  upon  his  brow. 

"  I  canna  hear !  "  he  wailed.     « She  will  dee,  and  no 


Tin:    MAX   OF   WRATH  283 

speak  to  me!"    Thru  lie  turned  fiercely  upon  the  doctor, 

as  if  he  did  not  know  him.  "  Who  are  you  that  spies 
on  my  grief,  standing  there  and  doing  nothing?  Get 
oot  o'  my  hoose,  lest  I  do  ye  a  hurt." 

And  the  indignant  little  man  went  at  the  word,  mount- 
ing his  sheltie  and  riding  away  across  the  moors  without 
once  turning  his  head,  t lie  "Penang  lawyer"  tapping 
unwontedly  upon  the  rounded  indignant  flank  of  his 
little  mare. 

When  Yabel  turned  again  to  his  wife  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  the  heart  of  the  Man  of  Wrath 
was  softened  within  him. 

"I  am  a  fool,"  he  said,  " an  angry  fool.  I  have 
driven  him  away  that  came  to  do  her  good.  I  will  call 
him  back." 

But  though  he  made  the  hills  to  echo,  and  the  startled 
sheep  to  run  together  into  frightened  hunches,  the 
insulted  little  doctor  upon  the  sheltie  never  turned  in 
his  saddle. 

"  Vain  is  the  help  of  man,"  said  Yabel,  as  he  turned 
to  go  in,  "  and  if  God  will  not  help  me,  I  will  renounce 
Him  also." 

He  sat  a  while  by  Janet's  side,  and  it  was  very  quiet, 
save  for  the  clock  ticking  out  the  moments  of  a  woman's 
life.  A  hen  cackled  without  in  the  yard  with  sudden 
joy  over  an  egg  safely  nested.  Yabel  started  up  angrih 
and  laid  his  hand  on  his  gun  in  the  rack  above  the 
smoked  mantel-board. 

But  the  woman's  eyes  called  him  to  desist,  and  he  sat 
down  again  beside  her  with  a  sigh. 

"  Wliat  is  it,  Jen  ?  Can  ye  no  speak  to  me  ?  "  The 
eyes  seemed  to  compel  him  yet  lower  —  upon  his  kne*s. 


284  THE   MAN   OF  WRATH 

"  To  pray  —  I  canna  pray,  Jen  ;  I  winna  pray.  If  the 
Lord  tak's  you,  I  will  arise  and  curse  Him  to  His  face." 

The  direction  of  the  gaze  changed.  It  was  upon  the 
family  Bible  on  the  shelf,  where  it  lay  with  Boston's 
Fourfold  State  and  a  penny  almanack,  the  entire  family 
library. 

"  Am  I  to  read  ? "  said  Yabel,  reaching  it  down. 
"What  am  I  to  read  ?  "  He  ran  down  the  table  of  con- 
tents with  his  great  stub-nailed  fingers,  "Genesis,  Exo- 
dus, Leviticus."  But  the  speaking  eyes  did  not  check 
him  till  he  came  to  the  Psalms. 

He  turned  them  over  till  he  came  to  the  twenty-third. 
The  will  in  his  wife's  glance  stopped  him  again.  He 
read  the  psalm  slowly,  kneeling  on  his  knees  by  the  bed- 
side. 

At  the  fourth  verse  his  voice  changed.  "  Tea,  though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadoiv  of  death,  I  will  fear 
no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me " 

And  at  the  sound  of  these  words  the  unstricken  left 
hand  of  his  wife  wavered  upward  uncertainly.  It  lay  a 
moment,  with  something  in  its  touch  between  a  caress 
and  a  blessing,  upon  his  head.  Then  it  dropped  lightly 
back  upon  the  coverlet. 

^r  tt  ^  tF  ^  4f 

Yabel  McQuhirr  sat  till  the  gloaming  by  the  side  of 
his  dead  wife,  a  terrible  purpose  firming  itself  in  his 
heart.  His  children  had  risen  up  against  him.  God 
had  cast  him  off.  Well,  he,  Yabel  McQuhirr,  would  cast 
Him  off.  At  His  very  Judgment  Seat  he  would  dare 
Him,  and  so  be  thrown  unrepenting  into  the  pit  prepared 
for  the  impenitent. 

He  had  done  that  which  was  needful   to  the  body  of 


THE    .\IA.N     01      W  KADI 

his  helpmei  I   oi   many  yi  eu  >.      Chen  do 

—  save  one  thing.     He  rose  and  v.  ait,  when  his 

bloodshot  eye  fell  on  the  great  family  Bible  from  which 
he  had  read  eve  and  morn  for  forty  years.  A  spasm  of 
anger  fierce  as  a  blast  from  a  furnace,  came  over  the 
man.  That  Book  bad  lied  !  It  had  deceived  him.  He 
lifted  ir  in  one  strong  hand  and  threw  it  upon  the 
fir<  . 

Then  he  walked  across  the  yard  to  the  stable  to  get  a 
coil  of  cart  rope.  He  stumbled  rather  than  stepped  as 
he  went,  the  ground  somehow  meeting  his  feet  unexpect- 
edly. He  could  not  find  the  rope,  and  found  himself 
exclaiming  savagely  at  the  absent  and  outcast  Abel  who 
had  mislaid  it. 

At  last  he  found  it  among  some  stable  litter,  lying 
beneath  the  peg  on  which  it  ought  to  have  hung.  Gath- 
ering the  coils  up  in  his  hand,  he  crossed  the  straw- 
strewn  yard  again  to  the  barn.  There  were  sound  open 
beams  in  the  open  space  between  mow  and  mow. 

"  It  had  best  be  done  there,"  he  muttered. 

There  was  a  rustling  among  the  straw  as  he  pushed 
back  the  upper  half  of  the  divided  door  —  rats,  as  he 
would  have  thought  at  another  time.  Now  he  only  won- 
dered if  he  could  reach  the  beams  by  standing  on  the 
corn  bushel. 

As  he  made  the  knot  firm  and  noosed  the  rope  through 
the  loop,  his  eyes  fell  on  the  further  door  of  the  bam  — 
the  one  through  which,  in  bygone  golden  Septembers,  he 
had  so  often  pitchforked  the  sheaves  of  corn. 

There  was  something  moving  between  him  and  the 
orchard  door.  In  the  dull  light  it  looked  like  a  young 
child.     And  then  the  heart  of*  Yabel  McQuhirr,  who  was 


286  THE   MAN   OF   WRATH 

not  afraid  to  meet  God  face  to  face,  was  filled  with  a 
great  fear. 

A  faint  moaning  whimper  came  to  his  ear.  He 
dropped  the  coil  of  rope  and  ran  back  to  the  house  for 
the  stable  lantern.  He  lighted  the  candle  with  a  piece 
of  red  peat-ash,  tossing  the  unconsumed  Bible  off  the 
fire.  Only  the  rough  calf-skin  cover  was  singed,  and  its 
smouldering  had  filled  the  house  with  a  keen  acrid  smell. 

Yabel  went  out  again  with  the  lantern  in  his  hand. 
Without  entering,  he  held  it  over  the  lower  half  of  the 
barn  door,  which  had  swung  to  after  him.  A  young 
woman,  clad  in  the  habit  of  a  "  gypsy  "  or  "  gaun  body," 
lay  huddled  on  the  straw,  while  over  her,  whimpering 
and  nosing  like  a  puppy,  crawled  the  most  beautiful 
child  Yabel  had  ever  seen.  As  the  light  broke  into  the 
darkness  of  the  barn  the  little  fellow  stood  up,  a  golden- 
haired  boy  of  two  years  of  age.  He  smiled  and  blinked, 
then,  with  his  hands  outstretched,  came  running  across 
the  floor  to  Yabel. 

"  Mither  willna  speak  to  Davie,"  he  said.  "  Up  —  up, 
Mannie,  tak'  wee  Davie  up !  " 

A  sob,  or  something  like  it,  rose  in  the  stern  old  man's 
throat.  He  could  forfeit  life,  he  could  defy  God,  he 
could  abandon  all  his  possessions;  but  to  leave  this 
little  shining  innocent  to  starve  —  no,  he  could  not  do  it. 

He  opened  the  door  and  went  in.  The  child  insisted 
fearlessly  on  being  taken  in  his  arms.  He  lifted  him 
up,  and  the  boy  hid  his  face  gladly  on  his  shoulder. 
Yabel  put>  his  hand  on  the  woman's  breast ;  she  was 
stone-cold,  and  had  been  so  for  hours.  Death  had  been 
busy  both  without  and  within  the  little  hill-farm  that 
snell  March  afternoon. 


THE    MAN    ()!•     WRATH  287 

He  covered  her  decently  up  with  a  pair  i 
and.  as  he  ip  of  paper  showed  between  her 

.  white  in  t  he  Lighl  of  t  he  Lantern. 

"  Blither  will  soon  be  warm  ooo,"  said  the  child,  from 
the  safe  coverl  of  label's  shoulder.      \ml  in  th  ing 

of  the  baby  lingers  the  evil  spiril  passed  quite  out  of  tin- 
heart  of  Yabel  McQuhirr. 

And  when  by  the  op< ;.  door  oi  the  Lantern  he  smool  hed 
out  the  pa]  er  (hat  had  been  in  the  dead  woman's  fingers, 
he  read  these  words  :  — 

"This  is  to  bear  testimony  that  I,  Abel  McQuhirr  the 
younger,  take  Alison  Baillie  to  be  my  wedded  wife. 
Done  in  the  presence  of  the  undersigned  witnesses. 

••  .V,,l  McQuhirr.  Maj  3rd,  IS—. 

••  Ro.  Gkieb. 
'•John  Lorraine. 


•■  Ro.  Gbij  b. 
"John  Lorb  i 

*  * 


j-  Witnesses." 


So  in  the  day  when  Yabel  McQuhirr  defied  his  Maker 
and  hardened  his  heart,  God  sent  unto  him    Eis  mercj 
in  the  shape  of  a  ;  oung  child      Then,  after  the  -rave 
had   claimed    its  dead,  the    heart    of    Yabel  was   won- 
dronsly  softened,  an  two  dwelt  on  in  the  empty 

house  in  great  content.  And  in  the  rescued  Book,  with 
its  charred  i  all-skin  cover,  the  old  man  reads  to  the  boy 
morning  and  evening  the  story  of  One  other  who  came 
to  sinful  men  in  the  likeness  of  a  Young  Child.  But 
though  his  heart  takes  comfort  in  the  record,  Yabel 
never  can  bring  himself  to  read  aloud  that  verse  which 
says:  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  tliest 
.  .  .  ye  did  it  unto  M< ." 

"I  am  not  worthy.     He   can  never  mean   Yabel  Mc- 
Quhirr," he  says,  and  shuts  the  Book. 


THE   LASS   IN    THE   SHOP 

In  Galloway,  if  you  find  an  eldest  son  of  the  same 
name  as  his  father,  search  the  mother's  face  for  the 
marks  of  a  tragedy.  An  eldest  son  is  rarely  called  by 
his  father's  Christian  name,  and  when  he  is,  usually 
there  is  a  little  grave  down  in  the  kirkyard  or  a  name 
that  is  seldom  spoken  in  the  house  —  a  dead  Abel  or  a 
wandering  Cain,  at  any  rate  a  first-born  that  was  —  and 
is  not. 

Now  I  am  called  Alexander  McQuhirr.  My  father 
also  is  Alexander  McQuhirr.  And  the  reason  is  that  a 
link  has  dropped  out.  I  remember  the  day  I  found  out 
that  you  could  make  my  mother  jump  by  coming  quietly 
behind  her  and  calling  "  Willie."  It  was  Willie  McAr- 
thur  I  was  after  —  he  had  come  over  from  Whinnyliggate 
to  play  with  me.     We  were  busy  at  "  hide-and-seek." 

"  Willie ! "  I  cried,  sharp  as  one  who  would  wake  an 
echo. 

My  mother  dropped  a  bowl  and  caught  at  her  side. 

It  is  only  recently  that  she  told  me  the  whole  story. 

The  truth  was  that  with  twelve  years  between  our 
ages  and  Willie  away  most  of  the  time,  I  had  no  particu- 
lar reason  to  remember  my  elder  brother.  For  years 
before  I  was  born  my  mother  had  been  compassionated 
with  by  the  good  wives  of  the  neighbourhood,  proud 
nursing  mothers  of  ten  or  eleven,  because  she  could 
boast  of  but  one  chicken  in  her  brood.  She  has  con- 
fessed to  me  what  she  suffered  on  that  account.     And 

28« 


THE    LASS    IN    THE    SIKH' 

though  now  I  have  younger  brothers  and  the  reproach 
was  wiped  away  in  time,  there  are  certain  Job's  com- 
forters whom  my   mother  lias  never  forgiven. 

She  would  be.  sure  to  spoil  Willie,  —  one  child  in  a 
house  was  always  spoilt.  So  the  tongues  went  ding-dor 
It  was  foolish  to  send  him  to  school  at  Cairn  Edward, 
throwing  away  good  siller,  instead  of  keeping  him  a1 
home  to  single  the  turnips.  Thus  and  thus  was  the 
reproach  of  my  mother's  reluctant  maternity  rubbed  in 
—  and  to  this  day  the  rubbers  are  not  forgotten.  It  will 
be  time  enough  to  forgive  them,  thinks  my  mother,  when 
she  comes  to  lie  on  her  death-bed. 

Yet  from  all  that  I  can  gather  there  was  some  truth  in 
what  they  said,  and  probably  this  is  what  rankles  in  that 
dear,  kindly,  ever  vehement  bosom.  Willie  was  indeed 
spoilt.  He  was  by  all  accounts  a  handsome  lad.  lie 
had  his  own  way  early,  and  what  was  worse  —  money  to 
spend  upon  it.  At  thirteen  he  was  bound  apprentice  to 
good  honest  Joseph  Baillieson  of  the  Apothecaries'  Hall 
in  Cairn  Edward.  Joseph  was  a  chemist  of  the  old 
school,  who,  when  a  more  than  usually  illegible  line 
occurred  in  the  doctors'  prescriptions  of  the  day.  always 
said  :  "  We'll  caa'  it  barley- water.  That'll  hairm  nae- 
body."  All  Joseph's  dispensing  was  of  the  eminently 
practical  kind. 

To  Mr.  Baillieson,  therefore,  "Willie  was  made  appren- 
tice, and  if  he  would  have  profited,  he  could  not  have 
been  in  better  hands,  and  this  story  never  had  been 
written.  But  the  fact  was,  he  was  too  early  away  from 
home.  He  was  my  mother's  eye-apple,  and  as  the  farm 
was  doing  well  during  these  years,  an  occasional  pound 
note  was  slipped  him  when  my  mother  was   down  on 


290  THE   LASS   IN  THE   SHOP 

Market  Monday.  Now  this  is  a  part  of  the  history  she 
has  never  told  rne.  I  can  only  piece  it  together  from 
hints  and  suggestions.  But  it  is  a  road  I  know  well.  I 
have  seen  too  niairy  walk  in  it. 

Mainly,  I  do  not  think  it  was  so  much  bad  company 
as  thoughtlessness  and  high  spirits.  Sweetmeats  and 
gloves  to  a  girl  more  witty  than  wise,  neckties  and  a 
small  running  account  yonder,  membership  of  the  row- 
ing club  and  a  small  occasional  stake  upon  the  races  — 
not  much  in  themselves,  perhaps,  but  more  than  enough 
for  an  apprentice  with  two  half-crowns  a  week  of  pocket 
money.  So  there  came  a  time  when  honest  Joseph  Bail- 
lieson,  with  many  misgivings  and  grave  down-draAvings 
of  upper  lip,  as  I  doubt  not,  took  my  father  into  the 
little  back  shop  where  the  liniments  were  made  up  and 
the  pills  rolled. 

What  they  said  to  each  other  I  do  not  know,  but  when 
Alexander  McQuhirr  came  out  his  face  was  marvellously 
whitened.  He  waited  for  Willie  at  his  lodgings,  and 
brought  him  home  that  night  with  him.  He  stayed  just 
a  week  at  the  farm,  restlessly  scouring  the  hills  by  day 
and  coming  in  to  his  bed  late  at  night. 

After  a  time,  by  means  of  the  minister,  a  place  was 
found  for  him  in  Edinburgh,  and  he  set  off  in  the 
coach  with  his  little  box,  leaving  what  prayerful  anx- 
ious hearts  behind  him  only  those  who  are  fathers  and 
mothers  know. 

He  was  to  lodge  with  a  good  old  woman  in  the  Pleas- 
ance,  a  regular  hearer  of  Dr.  Lawton's  of  Lady  Nixon's 
Wynd.  For  a  small  wage  she  agreed  to  mend  his  socks 
and  keep  a  motherly  eye  on  his  morals.  He  was  to  be 
in  by  ten,  and  latch-keyr>  were  not  allowed. 


THE    LASS    IN    THE    SHOP  291 

Now  1  do  not  doubt  that  it  was  lonely  for  AVillie  up 
there  in  the  great  city.  And  in  all  condemnation,  let 
the  tem]  Q  be  weighed  and  not  .i. 

May  God  I  bhe  good  folk  of  the  Open  Door  who, 

with  sons  and  daughters  of  their  own,  set  wide  their 
portals  and  invite  the  stranger  within  where  there  is  the 
sound  of  girlish  laughter,  the  boisterous  give-and-take  of 
youthful  wit,  and  —  yes.  is  much  as  anything  else,  the 
clatter  of  hospitable  knives  and  forks  working  together. 

Such  an  Open  Door  has  saved  many  from  destruction, 
and  in  That  Day  it  shall  be  counted  to  that  Man  (or, 
more  often,  that  Woman)  for  righteousness. 

For  consider  how  lonely  a  lad's  life  is  when  first  he 
comes  up  from  the  country.  He  works  till  he  is  wean  . 
and  in  the  evening  the  little  bedroom  is  intolerably 
lonely  and  infinitely  stuffy.  11'  the  Door  of  Kindness  be 
not  opened  for  him — if  he  lack  the  friend's  hand,  the 
comrade's  slap  on  the  back,  the  modest  uplift  of  honest 
maidenly  eyes  —  take  my  word  for  it,  the  Lad  in  the 
Garret  Avill  soon  seek  another  way  of  it.  There  are  many 
that  will  show  him  the  guide-posts  of  that  road.  Other 
doors  are  open.  Other  laughter  rings,  not  mellow  and 
sweet,  but  as  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot.  If  a 
youth  be  cut  off  from  the  one,  he  will  have  the  other  - 
that  is,  if  the  blood  course  hot  and  quick  in  his 
veins. 

And  so,  good  folk  of  the  city,  you  bien  and  comfort- 
able householders,  you  true  mothers  in  Israel,  fathers 
and  mothers  of  brisk  lads  and  winsome  lasses,  do 
not  forget  that  you  may  save  more  souls  from  going  down 
to  the  Pit  in  one  year  than  a  score  of  ministers  in  a  life- 
time.    And  I,  who  write  these  things,  know. 


292  THE   LASS   IN   THE   SHOP 

Many  a  foot  has  been  stayed  on  the  Path  called  Per- 
ilous simply  because  "  a  damsel  named  Rhoda  "  came  to 
answer  a  knock  at  a  door.  The  time  is  not  at  all  by- 
gone when  "  Given  to  hospitality  "  is  also  a  saving  grace. 
And  in  the  Day  of  Many  Surprises,  it  shall  be  said  of 
many  a  plain  man  and  unpretending  housewife  :  "Inas- 
much as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it 
unto  Me  I " 

****** 

But  so  it  was  not  with  Willie  my  brother.  There  was 
none  to  speak  the  word,  and  so  he  did  after  his  kind. 
How  much  he  did  or  how  far  he  went  I  cannot  tell. 
Perhaps  it  is  best  not  to  know.  But,  at  all  events,  I 
can  remember  his  home-coming  to  Drumquhat  one  Sat- 
urday night  after  he  had  been  a  year  or  fifteen  months 
in  Edinburgh.  He  came  unexpectedly,  and  I  was 
sleeping  in  a  little  crib  set  across  the  foot  of  my  parents' 
bed  in  the  "  ben  "  room. 

My  mother  was  a  light  sleeper  all  her  days,  and,  be- 
sides, I  judge  her  heart  was  sore.  For  never  breeze 
tossed  the  trees  or  rustled  the  beech-leaves,  but  she 
thought  of  her  boy  so  far  away.  In  a  moment  she  was 
up,  and  I  after  her,  all  noiseless  on  my  bare  feet,  though 
the  tails  of  my  night-gear  flapped  like  a  banner  in  the 
draughty  passage.  The  dogs  upon  the  hearthstone 
never  so  much  as  growled. 

"  Wha's  there  ?  " 

"  It's  me,  mither !  " 

"Willie!" 

It  was  indeed  Willie,  a  tall  lad  with  a  white  face,  a 
bright  colour  high-set  on  his  cheek-bone,  a  dancing  light 
in  his  eyes,  and,  at  sight  of  his  mother,  a  smile  on  his 


THE    LASS    IN    THE    SHOP  293 

lips.  He  was  dressed  in  what  seemed  to  me  a  style  of 
grandeur  such  as  I  had  never  beheld,  probably  no  more 
than  a  suit  of  town-cut  tweeds,  a  smart  tie,  and  a  watch- 
chain.  But  then  my  standard  was  gray  home-spun  and 
home-dyed  —  as  often  as  not  home-tailored  too.  And  Sol- 
omon in  all  his  glory  did  not  seem  to  be  arrayed  one  half 
so  nobly  as  my  elder  brother  Willie. 

I  do  not  mind  much  about  the  visit,  except  that  Willie 
let  me  wear  his  watch-chain,  which  was  of  gold,  for 
nearly  half-an-hour,  and  promised  that  the  next  time  he 
came  back  he  would  trust  me  with  the  watch  as  well. 
But  the  following  afternoon  something  happened  that  I 
do  remember.  After  dinner,  which  was  at  noon,  as  it 
had  been  ever  since  the  beginning  of  time,  my  father 
sat  still  in  his  great  corner  chair  instead  of  going  to  the 
barn.     My  mother  sent  me  out  to  play. 

"And  bide  in  the  yaird  till  I  send  for  ye,  mind  —  and 
dinna  let  me  see  your  face  till  tea-time!"  was  her  com- 
mand, giving  me  a  friendly  cuff  on  the  ear  by  way  of 
speeding  the  parting  guest. 

By  this  I  knew  that  there  was  something  she  did  not 
want  me  to  hear.  So  I  went  about  the  house  to  the  little 
window  at  which  my  father  said  his  prayers.  It  stood 
open  as  always,  like  Daniel's,  towards  Jerusalem.  I 
could  not  hea'-  very  well ;  but  that  was  no  fault  of  mine. 
I  did  my  best. 

Willie  was  speaking  very  fast,  telling  his  father  some- 
thing—  something  to  which  my  mother  vehemently  ob- 
jected. I  could  hear  her  interruptions  risiug  stormily, 
and  my  father  trying  to  calm  her.  Willie  spoke  low, 
except  now  and  then  when  his  voice  broke  into  a  kind 
of   scream.       I  remember  being  very  wae  for  him,  and 


294  THE   LASS   IN   THE   SHOP 

feeling  in  my  pocket  for  a  dirty  half-sucked  brandy  ball 
which  I  resolved  to  give  him  when  he  came  out.  It  had 
often  comforted  me  in  times  of  trouble. 

"  Siclike  nonsense  I  never  heard ! "  cried  my  mother, 
"  a  callant  like  you  !  A  besom  —  a  designing  madam, 
nocht  else  —  that's  what  she  is  i  I  wonder  to  hear  ye, 
Willie ! " 

"  Wheesh,  wheest  —  Mary  !  " 

I  could  hear  my  father's  voice,  grave  and  sober  as 
ever.  Then  Willie's  vehement  rush  of  words  went  on 
till  I  heard  my  mother  break  in  again. 

"  Marriage !  Marriage  !  Sirce,  heard  ye  ever  the 
like  ?  A  bairn  to  speak  to  me  o'  mairrying  a  woman 
naebody  kens  ocht  aboot  —  a  Mass  in  a  shop,'  ye  say; 
aye,  I'se  warrant  a  bonny  shop !  " 

Then  there  came  the  sound  of  a  chair  pushed  vehe- 
mently back,  the  crash  of  a  falling  dish.  My  father's 
voice,  deep  and  terrible  so  that  I  trembled,  followed. 
"  Sir,  sit  down  on  your  seat  and  compose  yourself !  Do 
not  speak  thus  to  your  mother ! " 

"  I  will  not  sit  down  —  I  will  not  compose  myself  —  I 
will  never  sit  down  in  this  house  again  —  I  will  marry 
Lizzie  in  spite  of  you  all ! " 

And  almost  before  I  could  get  round  to  the  front  yard 
again  Willie  had  come  whirling  all  disorderedly  out  of  the 
kitchen  door,  shutting  it  to  with  a  clash  that  shook  the 
house.  Then  with  wild  and  angry  eyes  he  strode  across 
the  straw-littered  space,  taking  no  notice  of  me,  but 
leaping  the  gate  and  so  down  the  little  loaning  and  up 
towards  the  heather  like  a  man  walking  in  his  sleep. 

I  remember  I  ran  after  him,  calling  him  to  come  back ; 
but  he  never  heeded  me  till  I  pulled  him  by  the  coat 


THE   LAS9    IN    THE   SHOP  296 

tails.     It  was  away  ap  near  the  march  d;  id  I  could 

hardly  speak  with  rum  i  last.     He  Btared  a    if  he 

did  not  know  i 

"Oh,  (liana  —  dinna  —  come  back!"  I  cried  (and  1 
think  I  wept);  "dinna  vi  x  my  mither  1  —  And  —  there's 
'ruinmelt  tawties  ' '  to  the  supper!  " 

But  Willie  would  not  stop  for  all  1  could  say  to  him. 

However,  he  patted  me  on  the  head. 

"Bide  at  hame  and  be  Jacob,"  he  said;  "they  have 
cast  out  this  Esau." 

For  he  had  been  well  learned  in  the  Bible,  and  once 
got  a  prize  for  catechism  at  the  day  school  at  Whinny- 
liggate.  It  was  Boston's  Fourfold  State,  so,  though  there 
were  three  copies  in  the  house,  I  never  tried  to  read  it. 

So  saying,  he  took  the  hillside  like  a  goat,  while  I 
stood  open-mouthed,  gazing  at  the  lithe  figure  of  him 
who  was  my  brother  as  it  grew  smaller,  and  finally 
vanished  over  the  heathery  shoulder  of  the  Rig  of 
Drumquhat. 

That  night  1  heard  my  father  and  mother  talking  far 
into  the  morning,  while  I  made  a  pretence  of  sleeping. 

"I  will  never  own  him!"  said  my  father,  who  was 
now  the  angry  one. 

"  I'm  feared  he  doesna  look  strong !  "  answered  my 
mother  in  the  darkness. 

"lie  shall  sup  sorrow  for  the  way  he  spoke  to  the 
father  that  begat  him  and  the  mother  that  bore  him!" 
said  my  father. 

1  "  Rummelt  tawties,"  i.e.  a  sort  of  pur??  of  potatoes,  made  in  the 
pot  in  which  they  have  been  boileu,  with  sweet  milk,  butter,  and  some- 
times a  little  flavouring  of  cheese.  All  hands  are  expected  to  assist  in 
the  operation  of  "  champing,"  that  is,  pounding  and  stirring  them  to  a 
proper  consistency  of  toothsomem 


296  THE   LASS   IN   THE    SHOP 

"Dinna  say  that,  guidman!"  pled  my  mother;  "it  is 
like  cursin'  oor  ain  firstborn.  Think  how  proud  ye  were 
the  time  he  grippit  ye  by  the  hand  comin'  up  the  loanin' 
an'  caa'ed  ye  '  Dadda ! ' " 

After  this  there  was  silence  for  a  space,  and  then  it 
was  my  mother  who  spoke. 

"No,  Alexander,  you  shallna  gang  to  Edinbra  to  bring 
him  hame.  Gin  yin  o'  us  maun  gang,  let  it  be  me.  For 
ye  wad  be  overly  sore  on  the  lad.  But  oh,  the  madam  — 
the  Jezebel,  her  that  has  wiled  him  awa'  frae  us,  wait 
till  I  get  my  tongue  on  her ! " 

And  this  is  how  my  mother  carried  out  her  threat, 
told  in  her  own  words. 

"  Oh,  that  weary  toon !  "  she  said  afterward.  "  The 
streets  sae  het  and  dry,  the  blawin'  stoor,  the  peetifu' 
bairns  in  the  gutter,  and  the  puir  chapman's  joes  standin' 
at  the  close-mouths  wi'  their  shawls  aboot  their  heads ! 
I  wondered  what  yin  o'  them  had  gotten  baud  o'  my 
Willie.  But  at  last  I  cam'  to  the  place  where  he  lodged. 
It  was  at  a  time  o'  the  day  when  I  kenned  he  wad  be  at 
his  wark.  It  was  a  hoose  as  muckle  as  three  kirks  a' 
biggit  on  the  tap  o'  yia  anither,  an'  my  Willie  bode,  as 
it  were,  in  the  tapmaist  laft. 

"  It  was  an  auld  lame  woman  wi'  a  mutch  on  her  head 
that  opened  the  door.     I  askit  for  Willie. 

"  <  He's  no  here,'  says  she  ;  '  an'  what  may  ye  want  wi' 
him  ? ' 

."  '  I'm  his  mither,'  says  I,  and  steppit  ben.  She  was 
gye  thrawn  at  the  first,  but  I  sune  tamed  her.  She  was 
backward  to  tell  me  ocht  aboot  Willie's  ongangin's,  but 
nane  backward  to  tell  me  that  his  '  book '  hadna  been 


THE  LASS  IN  THE   SHOP  297 

payit  for  six  weeks,  and  that  she  was  sor<  in  need  <»' 
the  siller.  So  I  countil  it  doon  to  her  shillin'  by  shillin', 
penny  by  penny. 

"'An'  noo,3  Bays  1,  'tell  me  a'  ye  ken  o'  this  madam 
that  has  bewitched  my  bairn,  her  that's  costin'  him  a' 
this  siller  —  tor  doubt  It  ss  he  is  wearin'  it  on  the  Jezebel 
—  an'  breakiif  Ins  anther's  heart.' 

"  Then  the  landlady's  face  took  on  anither  cast  and 
colour.  She  hummed  an'  hawed  a  whilie.  Then  at  last 
she  speaks  plain. 

"  '  She's  nane  an  ill  lass/  she  says,  '  'deed,  she  comes 
o'  guid  kin,  and  —  she's  neither  mair  nor  less  than  sister's 
bairn  to  myseF! ' 

"  Wi'  that  I  rises  to  my  feet.  '  If  she  be  in  this  hoose, 
let  me  see  her.  I  will  speak  wi'  the  woman  face  to  face. 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  catch  them  thegither  I  wad  let  her 
ken  what  it  is  to  twine  a  mither  and  her  boy  ! ' 

"  The  auld  lame  guidwife  opens  the  door  o'  a  bit  closet 
wi'  a  bed  in  it  and  a  chair  or  twa. 

"'Gang  in  there,'  she  says,  'an'  ye  shall  hae  your 
desire.  In  a  quarter  o'  an  hour  Lisbeth  will  be  comin' 
name  frae  the  shop  where  she  serves,  and  it's  mair  than 
likely  that  your  son  will  be  wi'  her  ! ' 

"  And  wi'  that  she  snecks  the  door  wi'  a  brainge.  For 
I  could  see  she  was  angry  at  what  I  had  said  aboot 
her  kith  an'  kin.  And  I  liked  her  the  better  for 
that. 

"  So  there  I  sat  thinkin'  on  what  I  wad  say  to  the  lass 
when  she  cam'  in.  And  aye  the  mair  I  thocht,  the  faster 
the  words  raise  in  my  mind,  till  I  was  fair  feared  I  wad 
never  get  time  to  utter  a  tenth-part  o'  my  mind.  It 
needna  hae  troubled  me,  had  I  only  kenned. 


298  THE  LASS   IN   THE    SHOP 

"  Then  there  was  the  risp  o'  a  key  in  the  lock,  for  in 
thae  rickles  o'  stane  an'  lime  that  they  rin  up  noo  a  days, 
ye  can  hear  a  cat  sneeze  ower  a  hale  '  flat.'  I  heard  foot- 
steps gang  by  the  door  o'  the  closet  an'  intil  the  front 
room.  And  I  grippit  the  handle,  bidin'  my  time  to  break 
oot  on  them. 

"  But  there  was  something  that  held  me.  A  lassie's 
voice,  fleechin'  and  fleechin'  wi'  the  lad  she  loves  as  if 
for  life  or  death.  Hoo  did  I  ken  that  ?  —  Weel,  it's  nae 
business  o'  yours,  Alec,  hoo  I  kenned  it.  But  yince  hear 
it  and  ye'll  never  forget  it. 

"  <  Willie,'  it  said, '  tak'  the  siller,  I  dinna  need  it.  Put 
it  back  before  they  miss  it  —  and  oh,  never,  never  gang 
to  thae  races  again ! ' 

"  I  sat  stane-cauld,  dumb-stricken.  It  was  an  awesome 
thing  for  a  mither  to  hear.     Then  Willie  answered. 

"  '  Lizzie,'  he  said,  and  I  kenned  he  had  been  greeting, 
'  Lizzie,  I  canna  tak'  the  money.  I  would  be  a  greater 
hound  than  I  am  if  I  took  the  siller  ye  hae  saved  for  the 
house  and  the  marriage  braws  —  and ' 

"  *  Oh,  Will,'  she  cried,  and  I  kenned  fine  she  was 
greetin'  too,  an'  grippin'  him  aboot  the  neck,  lI  dinna 
want  to  be  mairried  —  I  dinna  want  a  hoose  o'  my 
ain  —  I  dinna  want  ony  weddin'  braws,  if  only  ye  will 
tak'  the  siller  —  and  —  be  my  ain  guid  lad  and  never 
break  your  mither's  heart  —  an'  mine !  Oh,  promise  me, 
Willie  !     Let  me  hear  ye  promise  me ! ' 

"  Aye,  she  said  that  —  an'  me  hidin'  there  ready  to 
speak  to  her  like  a  tinkler's  messan. 

"  So  I  opens  the  door  an'  gaed  in.  Willie  had  some 
pound  notes  grippit  in  his  hand,  and  the  lassie  was  on 
her  knees  thankin'  God  that  he  had  ta'en  her  hard-earned 


THE   LASS   IN   THE   SHOP  299 

savin's  as  she  asked  him,  and  that  he  promised  to  be  a 
guid  boy. 

"'Mither  !  '  says  \\rillie,  and  his  lips  were  white. 

"  And  at  the  word  the  lassie  rises,  and  I  could  see 
her  le.^s  tremble  aneath  her  as  she  cam'  nearer  to  me. 

" '  Dinna  be  hard  on  him,'  she  says ;  '  he  has  prom- 
ised   ' 

"  <  What's  that  in  your  hand  ? '  says  I,  pointing  at  the 
siller. 

"'It's  money  I  have  stolen!'  says  Willie,  wi'  a  face 
like  a  streikit  corpse. 

" '  Oh  no,  no,'  cries  the  lass,  '  it's  his  ain  —  his  an' 
mine ! ' 

"And  if  ever  there  was  a  lee  markit  doon  in  shin  in' 
gold  in  the  book  o'  the  Recordin'  Angel  it  was  that  yin. 
She  was  nae  great  beauty  to  look  at  —  a  bit  slip  o'  a 
fair-haired  lass,  wi'  blue  een  an'  a  ringlet  or  twa  peepin' 
oot  where  ye  didna  expect  them.  But  she  looked  bonny 
then  —  aye,  as  bonny  as  ever  your  Nance  did. 

"  '  Gie  the  pound  notes  back  to  the  lass  ! '  says  I,  '  and 
syne  you  and  me  will  gang  doon  and  speak  with  your 
maister  that  ye  hae  robbit ! ' 

"  And  wi'  that  the  lass  fell  doon  at  my  feet  and  grippit 
me,  and  fleeched  on  me,  and  kissed  my  hands,  and  let 
the  warm  tears  rin  drap  —  drap  on  my  lingers. 

"  '  Oh  dinna,  dinna  do  that,'  she  cried,  '  let  him  pit 
them  back.  He  only  took  them  for  a  loan.  Let  him 
pit  them  back  this  nicht  when  his  maister  is  awa  hame 
for  his  tea.  He  is  a  hard  man,  and  "Willie  is  a'  I 
hae ! ' " 

"  Weel,"  my  mother  would  conclude,  "may  be  it  wasna 


300  THE  LASS   IN   THE   SHOP 

juist  richt —  but  I  couldna  resist  the  lass.  So  Willie 
did  as  she  said,  and  naething  was  kenned.  But  I  garred 
him  gie  in  his  notice  the  next  day,  and  I  took  him  hame, 
for  it  was  clear  as  day  that  the  lad  was  deein'  on  his 
feet.  And  I  brocht  the  lass  hame  wi'  me  too.  And  if 
Willie  had  leeved  — but  it  wasna  to  be.  We  juist  keepit 
him  to  November.  And  the  last  nicht  we  sat  yin  on 
ilka  side  o'  the  bed,  her  haudin'  a  hand  and  me  haudin' 
a  hand,  neither  jealous  o'  the  ither,  which  was  a  great 
wonder.  An'  I  think  he  kind  o'  dovered  an'  sleepit  — 
whiles  wanderin'  in  his  mind  and  syne  waukin'  wi'  a 
strange  look  on  his  face.  But  ower  in  the  sma'  hours 
when  the  wind  begins  to  rise  and  blaw  caulder,  and  the 
souls  o'  men  to  slip  awa',  he  started  up.  It  was  me  he 
saw  first,  for  the  candle  was  on  my  side. 

"  '  Mither,'  he  said,  •  where's  Lizzie  ? ' 

"  And  when  he  saw  her  sit  by  him,  he  drew  away  the 
hand  that  had  been  in  mine  and  laid  it  on  hers. 

"  '  Lizzie,'  he  said,  '  dinna  greet,  my  bonnie :  I  prom- 
ise !     I  will  be  your  ain  guid  lad ! '  " 

****** 

"  And  the  lass  ?  "  I  queried. 

"  Oh,  she  gaed  back  to  the  shop,  and  they  say  she  has 
chairge  o'  a  hale  department  noo,  and  is  muckle  thocht 
on.  But  she  has  never  mairried,  and,  though  we  hae 
askit  her  every  year,  she  wad  never  come  back  to  Drum- 
quhat  again ! 

"And  that,"  said  my  mother,  smiling  through  her 
tears,  "  is  the  story  how  my  Willie  was  led  astray  by  the 
Lass  in  the  Shop." 


THE    RESPECT   OF   DROWDLE 

Most  folk  in  the  "West  of  Scotland  know  the  parish  of 
Drowdle,  at  least  by  repute.  It  is  a  great  mining  cent*.  . 
ami  the  inhabitants  are  not  counted  among  the  peaceable 
of  the  earth. 

"If  ye  want  your  head  broken,  gang  doon  to  Drowdle 
on  a  Saturday  nicht"  is  an  advice  often  given  to  the 
boastful  or  the  bumptious.  Drowdle  is  a  new  place  too, 
and  the  inhabitants,  instead  of  being,  like  ordinary  Scot- 
tish Geordies,  settled  for  generations  in  one  coal-field 
and  with  whole  streets  of  relatives  within  stonethrow, 
are  composed  of  all  the  strags  and  restless  ne'er-do-weels 
of  such  as  go  down  into  the  earth,  from  Cornwall  even  to 
the  Hill-o'-Beith. 

Most,  I  say,  know  Drowdle  by  repute.  I  myself, 
indeed,  once  acted  as  locum  tenens  for  the  doctor  there 
during  six  hot  and  lively  summer  weeks,  and  gained  an 
experience  in  the  treatment  of  contusions,  discolorations, 
and  abrasions  of  the  skull  and  frontal  bones  which  has 
been  of  the  greatest  possible  use  to  me  since.  The 
younger  Drowdleites,  however,  had  at  that  time  a  habit 
of  stretching  a  cord  across  the  threshold  about  a  foot 
above  the  step,  which  interfered  considerably  with  pro- 
fessional dignity  of  exit  —  that  is,  till  you  were  used  to 
it.  But  after  one  has  got  into  the  habit  of  scouting 
ahead  with  a  spatula  ground  fine  and  tied  to  a  walking- 
stick  on  darkish  nights,  Drowdle  began  to  respect  you. 

301 


302  THE  RESPECT   OF  DROWDLE 

Still  better,  if  (as  I  did)  you  can  catch  a  couple  of  the 
cord- stretchers,  produce  an  occipital  contusion  or  two  on 
your  own  account,  and  finish  by  kicking  the  jesters  bod- 
ily into  Drowdle  Water.  Then  the  long  rows  of  slated 
brick  which  constitute  the  mining  village  agree  that 
"  the  new  doakter  kens  his  business  —  a  smart  lad,  yon  ! 
Heard  ye  what  he  did  to  thae  twa  deils,  Jock  Lee  an' 
Cockly  Nixon?  He  catchit  them  trippin'  him  wi'  a 
cairt  rape  at  Betty  Forgan's  door,  and,  faith,  he  threw 
them  baith  into  Drowdle  Water  ! " 

Such  being  the  way  to  earn  the  esteem  of  Drowdle,  it 
would  have  saved  the  telling  of  this  story  if,  when  young 
Dairsie  Gordon  received  a  call  to  be  minister  of  the 
recently  established  mission  church  there,  he  had  had 
any  one  to  enlighten  him  on  the  subject. 

He  was  so  young  that  he  was  ashamed  when  any  one 
asked  him  his  age.  They  had  called  him  "  Joanna  "  at 
college,  and  sent  him  recipes  along  the  desk  for  compel- 
ling a  beard  and  moustache  to  grow  under  any  conditions 
of  soil  and  climate,  however  unfavourable. 

Dairsie  Gordon  was  very  innocent,  very  learned,  very 
ignorant,  and  —  the  only  son  of  a  well-to-do  mother,  who 
from  a  child  had  destined  him  for  the  ministry.  The 
more  was  the  pity  ! 

As  a  child  he  was  considered  too  delicate  for  the 
rough-and-tumble  of  school.  He  had  a  tutor,  a  mild- 
faced  young  man  who  seldom  spoke  above  his  breath, 
and  never  willingly  walked  more  than  a  mile  at  a  time, 
and  then  with  a  book  in  his  hand  and  a  flute  in  his  tail 
pocket.  Under  his  instruction,  however,  Dairsie  became 
an  excellent  classic,  and  his  verse  gained  the  approval 
of  Professor  Jupiter  Olympus  when  he  went  up  to  the 


'rill-:    RESPECT   OF    DROWDLE  303 

University  <>f  Edinburgh,  where  Latin  verse  was  a  r 
accomplishment  in  those  days,  and  Greek  ones  as  extind 

as  the  dodo. 

When   her  stiii  went  to  college,   Mrs.  Gordon  came  up 
herself  from  the  country  to  settle  Dairsie  in  the  house 
a  friend  of  her  own,  the  widow  of  a  deceased  minister 

who  had  married  an  old  maid  late  in  life.  This  excellent 
lady  possessed  much  experience  of  bazaars  and  a  good 
working  knowledge  of  tea-meetings,  but  she  knew  noth- 
ing of  young  men. 

So,  being  placed  in  authority  over  Dairsie,  she  insisted 
that  he  should  come  straight  back  to  Hose  Crescent  from 
his  classes,  take  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day  aloue 
with  his  hostess,  and  then  —  as  a  treat  —  accompany 
her  while  she  made  a  call  or  two  on  other  clerical 
widows  who  had  married  late  in  life.  Then  she  took 
him  home  to  open  his  big  lexicons  and  pore  over  crabbed 
constructions  till  supper-time.  This  feast  consisted  of 
plain  bread  and  butter  with  the  smallest  morsel  of 
cheese,  because  much  cheese  is  not  good  for  the  digestion 
at  night.  A  glass  of  milk  accompanied  these  delicacies. 
It  also  was  plain  and  blue,  because  the  cream  (a  doubt- 
ful quantity  at  best)  had  been  skimmed  off  it  for  Mrs. 
McSkirmish's  tea  in  the  morning. 

After  that  Dairsie  was  sent  to  bed.  He  was  allowed 
ten  minutes  to  take  off  his  clothes  and  say  his  prayers. 
Then  the  gas  was  turned  out  at  the  meter.  If  he  wanted 
time  for  more  study  and  reading  he  could  have  it  in  the 
morning.  It  is  good  for  youth  to  rise  betimes  and  stmh 
the  Hebrew  Scriptures  with  cold  feet  and  fingers  that 
will  not  turn  the  leaves  of  Gesenius  till  they  are  blown 
upon  severally  and  individually.     In  this  fashion,  vary- 


304  THE   EESPECT    OF   DROWDLE 

ing  in  nothing,  save  that  on  alternate  Sundays  there  was 
something  hot  for  supper,  because  Mrs.  McSkirniish's 
minister  —  a  severe  and  faithful  divine  —  came  to  inter- 
view Dairsie  and  report  on  his  progress  to  his  mother, 
the  future  pastor  passed  seven  winter  sessions. 

Scholastically  his  victories  were  many.  Bursaries 
seemed  purposely  created  for  him  to  take  —  and  imme- 
diately resign  in  favour  of  his  proxime  accessit,  who 
needed  the  money  more.  The  class  never  queried  as  to 
who  would  be  first  in  the  "  exams.,''  but  only  wrangled 
concerning  who  would  come  next  after  Gordon  —  and 
how  many  marks  below. 

In  summer  Dairsie  went  quietly  down  to  his  mother's 
house  in  the  country,  where  his  neck  was  fallen  upon 
duly,  and  four  handmaids  (with  little  else  to  do)  wor- 
shipped him  —  especially  when  for  the  first  time  he  took 
the  "  Book "  at  family  worship.  There  was  a  wood 
before  the  door,  in  which  he  passed  most  of  his  time 
lying  on  his  back  reading,  and  his  old  tutor  came  to  stay 
with  him  for  a  month  at  a  time. 

Thus  was  produced  the  Reverend  Dairsie  Gordon,  B.D., 
without  doubt  the  first  student  of  his  college,  Allingham 
Fellow,  and  therefore  entitled  to  go  to  Germany  for  a 
couple  of  years  by  the  terms  of  his  Fellowship. 

But  by  one  of  these  interpositions  of  Providence,  which 
even  the  most  orthodox  denominate  "  doubtful,"  there 
was  at  this  time  a  vacancy  in  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
small  Mission  Church  at  Drowdle.  The  late  minister 
had  accepted  a  call  to  a  moorland  congregation  of  sixty 
members,  where  nothing  had  happened  within  the  mem- 
ory of  man  more  stirring  than  the  wheel  coming  off  a 
cart  of  peats  opposite  the  manse. 


THE   RESPECT   OF    DROWDLE  305 

Dairsie  Gordon  preached  at  Drowdle.     Ih     roice 
sweet  and  cultivated  and  musical,  so  that  it    Eel]   pl< 
antly  on  the  ears  of  the  kirk-goers  of  Drowdle,  over  wh< 
heads  had  long  blared  a  voice  like  to  the  trumpets  at  the 
opening  of  the  seventh  seal  in  the  hook  of  the  Revelation. 

So  they  elected  him  unanimously.  Also  he  was  "  well- 
to-do,"'  and  it  was  understood  in  the  congregation  thai 
his  salary  would  nol  be  a  consideration.  The  minister- 
eled  Immediately  resigned  his  fellowship,  considering 
this  a  direct  call  to  the  work. 

In  this  fashion  Dairsie  Gordon  went  to  his  martyr- 
dom. Ignorant  of  the  world  as  the  child  of  four,  never 
having  been  elbowed  and  buffeted  and  browbeaten  by 
circumstances,  never  cuffed  at  school,  snubbed  at  colh 
and  so  variously  and  vicariously  licked  and  kicked  into 
shape,  he  found  himself  suddenly  pitchforked  into  the 
spiritual  charge  of  one  of  the  most  difficult  congregations 
in  Scotland. 

The  new  minister  was  introduced  socially  at  a  tea- 
meeting  on  the  evening  of  the  ordination,  and  then  and 
there  he  had  his  first  taste  of  the  Drowdelian  quality. 
There  were  plenty  of  douce  and  sober  folk  in  the  front 
pews  of  the  little  kirk,  but  at  the  back  reckless,  unmar- 
ried Geordies  were  sandwiched  between  a  militant  and 
ungodly  hobbledehoyhood.  Paper  bags  that  had  con- 
tained fruit  exploded  in  the  midst  of  the  most  sol. 'inn 
addresses.  Dairsie's  own  remarks  were  fairly  punctu- 
ated with  these  explosions,  and  by  the  flying  shells  of 
Brazil  nuts.  Bone  buttons  at  the  end  of  knitting 
needles  clicked  and  tapped  at  windows,  and  a  shutter 
fell  inward  with  a  crash.  It  was  thus  that  Dairsie  re- 
turned thanks : 


306  THE   RESPECT   OF   DROWDLE 

"  My  dear  people  "  (a  penny  trumpet  blew  an  obligato 
accompaniment  under  the  book-board  of  a  pew),  "  I  have 
been  led  to  the  oversight  of  this  flock  "  (pom-pom-pom) 
"after  prayer  and  under  guidance.  I  shall  endeavour 
to  teach  you  —  "  ("  Catch  -  the  -  Ten !  "  "All-fours!" 
"  Quoits  ! ")  "  some  of  those  things  which  I  have  devoted 
my  life  to  acquiring.  I  am  prepared  for  some  little 
difficulty  at  first,  till  we  know  one  another " 

The  remainder  of  the  address  was  inaudible  owing  to 
the  cries  of,  "  Rob  Kinstry  has  stole  my  bag ! "  "  Ye're 
a  liar ! "  All  which  presently  issued  in  the  general  tur- 
moil of  a  free  fight  towards  the  rear  of  the  church. 

Mrs.  Gordon  had  come  up  to  be  present  on  the  occa- 
sion of  her  son's  ordination,  and  that  night  in  the  little 
manse  mother  and  son  mingled  their  tears.  It  all 
seemed  so  wrong  and  pitiful  to  them. 

But  Dairsie,  with  a  fine  hopefulness  on  his  delicate 
face,  lifted  his  head  from  his  mother's  shoulder,  smiling 
like  a  girl  through  his  own  tears. 

"But  after  all,  this  is  the  work  to  which  I  have 
been  called,  mother.  And  you  know  if  it  is  His  will 
that  I  am  to  labour  here,  in  time  He  will  give  the  in- 
crease." 

So  somewhat  heartened,  mother  and  son  kneeled  down 
together,  prayed,  and  went  to  bed. 

On  the  forenoon  of  the  next  day  two  of  the  elders, 
decent  pitmen,  who  happened  to  be  on  the  night-shift, 
called  in  to  give  their  verdict  and  to  drop  a  word  of  advice. 

"  A  graund  meetin',"  said  Pate  Tamson,  the  oversman 
of  No.  4 ;  "  what  for  didna  ye  tak'  your  stick  and  gie 
some  o'  the  vaigabonds  a  clour  on  the  lug  ?  It  wad  hae 
served  them  weel ! " 


IMF.    KESl'ECT    OK    I>RO\VI>I,K  307 

<ll  could  not  think  of  doing  such  a  thing,"  said 
Dairsie.  "1  desire  to  wield  a  spiritual,  not.  a  carnal, 
influence  I  " 

"Carnal  influence  here,  carnal  influence  there,"  cried 

Robin  Naysmith,  stamping  his  foot  till  the  little  study 
trembled,  "  if  ye  are  to  succeed  in  this  village  o'  Drowdh, 
ye  maun  pit  doon  your  fit  —  like  that,  sir,  like  that!" 

And  he  stamped  on  the  new  Brussels  carpet  till  the 
plaster  began  to  come  down  in  flakes  from  the  ceiling. 
Dairsie  tried  to  imagine  himself  stamping  like  that,  but 
could  not.  For  one  thing,  he  had  always  worn  single- 
soled  shoes,  with  silk  ties  and  woollen  "  soles  "  (which  he 
luul  promised  his  mother  to  take  out  and  dry  whenever 
he  came  in),  a  fact  which  has  more  bearing  on  the  main 
question  than  appears  on  the  surface. 

"A  man  has  to  assert  hissel'  in  this  toon,  or  he  is  thoeht 
little  on,"  said  Pate  Tamson,  the  oversman.  "Noo, 
there's  MacGrogan,  the  Irish  priest  —  I  dinna  agree  wi' 
his  releegion,  an'  dootless  he  will  hae  verra  little  chance 
at  the  Judgment.  But,  faith,  when  he  hears  that  there's 
ony  o'  his  fowk  drinkin'  ower  lang  aboot  Lucky  Moat's, 
in  he  gangs  wi'  a  cudgel  as  thick  as  your  airm,  and  the 
great  solemn  curses,  fair  rowlin'  aff  the  tongue  o'  him  — 
and  faith,  he  clears  Lucky's  faster  than  a  hale  raft  of 
polissmen  !     Aye,  he  does  that !  " 

"Aye,"  assented  the  junior  elder,  Robin  Nay  smith,  he 
whose  feet  had  put  the  plaster  in  danger,  "  what  we  need 
i'  Drowdle  is  a  man  o'  poo'er  —  a  man  o'  wecht ! " 

"<  Quit  ye  like  men — be  strong!'  saith  the  Scripture," 
summed  up  the  oversman.  Then  both  of  them  waited  for 
Dairsie,  to  see  what  he  had  got  to  say. 

"I  —  I  am  sure  I  shall  endeavour  to  do  my  best,"  said 


308  THE   RESPECT   OF   DROWDLE 

the  young  minister,  "  but  I  fear  I  have  underestimated 

the  difficulties  of  the  position." 

The  oversman  shook  his  head  as  he  went  out  through 

the  manse  gate. 

"And  I  am  some  dootfu'  that  we  hae  made  a  mistak'!" 
"If  we  hae,"  rejoined  Naysmith,  the  strong  man,  "  we 

maun  keep  it  frae  the  knowledge  o'  Drowdle.     But  the 

lad  is  young  —  young.      And  when  he  has  served  his 

'prenticeship  to  sorrow,  he  will  maybes  come  oot  o'  the 

furnace  as  silver  that  is  tried  ! " 

Now,  neither  Drowdle  nor  its  inhabitants  meant  to  be 
unkind.  In  case  of  illness  or  accident  among  themselves, 
none  gave  material  help  more  liberally.  What  belonged 
to  one  was  held  in  a  kindly  communism  to  be  the  right 
of  all.  But  Drowdle  was  not  to  be  handled  delicately. 
It  was  a  nettle  to  be  grasped  with  gloves  of  untanned 
leather. 

Dairsie  Gordon  opened  his  first  Sunday-school  at  three 
in  the  afternoon.  At  a  quarter  to  four,  as  he  stood  up 
on  the  platform  to  give  his  closing  address,  he  found 
boys  scuttling  and  playing  "  tig  "  between  his  legs.  He 
laid  down  his  hymn  book,  and  on  lifting  it  to  read  the 
closing  verses,  discovered  that  a  certain  popular  baccha- 
nalian collection  entitled  "  Songs  of  the  Red,  White,  and 
Blue"  had  mysteriously  taken  its  place. 

The  young  minister  had  other  and  graver  trials  also. 
The  pitmen  passed  him  on  the  road  with  a  surly  grunt, 
and  he  did  not  know  it  was  only  because  they  were 
trudging  home  dog-tired  from  their  long  shift.  The 
hard-driving  managers  and  sub-managers,  men  without 
illusions  and  as  blatantly  practical  as  a  Scottish  daily 


THE    RESPECT   OF   DROWDLE 

paper,  passed  him  bj  contemptuously,  as  if  he  had  !■ 
a  tract  thrust  under  their  doors.     The  schoolmaster,  a 
cleverish    machine-made   youth   of    inordinate    <unceit, 
openly  scoffed.     He  -was  a  weakling,  this   minister,  and 
he  had  better  know  it. 

And,  indeed,  in  these  days,  Dairsie  gave  them  plenty 
of  scope  for  complaint.  His  sermons  might  possibly  have 
edified  a  company  of  the  unf alien  angels,  if  we  can  fancy 
such  being  interested  in  heathen  philosophy  and  the 
interpretation  of  the  more  obscure  Old  Testament  Scrip- 
tures. But  to  this  gritty,  ungodly,  crass-natured,  rasp- 
surfaced  village  of  Drowdle,  the  young  man  merely 
babbled  in  his  pulpit  as  the  summer  brooks  do  over  the 
pebbles. 

An  itinerant  evangelist,  who  shook  the  fear  of  hell-fire 
under  their  noses  with  the  fist  of  a  pugilist,  and  claimed 
in  ancient  style  the  power  to  bind  and  the  power  to 
loose,  might  conceivably  have  succeeded  in  Drowdle,  but 
as  it  was,  Dairsie  Gordon  proved  a  failure  of  the  most 
absolute  sort.  And  Drowdle,  having  no  false  modesty, 
told  him  plainly  of  it.  At  informal  meetings  of  Session 
the  question  of  their  minister's  shortcomings  was  dis- 
cussed with  freedom  and  point,  only  the  oversman  and 
Eobin  Nay  smith  pleading  suspension  of  judgment  on 
account  of  the  young  man's  years. 

For  there  were  sympathetic  hearts  here  and  there 
among  the  folk  of  Drowdle.  Women  with  the  maternal 
instinct  yet  untrampled  out  of  them  came  to  their  doors 
to  look  after  the  tall  slim  "  laddie  "  who  was  so  like  the 
sons  they  had  dreamed  of  when  the  maiden's  blush  still 
tinged  their  cheeks. 

"He's  a  bonny  laddie  to  look  on,"  they  said  to  each 


310  THE   EESPECT   OF  DROWDLE 

other  as,  palm  on  hip,  they   stood   looking   after   him. 
"  It's  a  peety  that  he  is  sae  feckless ! " 

Yet  Dairsie  was  always  busy.  He  was  no  neglecter  of 
duty.  He  worked  with  eager  strained  hopefulness.  No 
matter  how  deep  had  been  his  depression  of  the  evening, 
the  morning  found  him  contemplating  a  day  of  work 
with  keen  anticipation  and  unconquerable  desire  to 
succeed. 

To-day,  at  last,  he  would  begin  to  make  an  impression. 
He  would  visit  the  remainder  of  Dickson's  Row,  and 
perhaps  —  who  knew  ?  —  it  might  be  the  turning  of  the 
tide.  So  he  sat  down  opposite  his  mother  at  breakfast, 
smiling  and  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  To-day  I  am  going  to  show  them,  mother,"  he  would 
say. 

"  Show  them  what,  Dairsie  dear  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  a  man ! " 

But  within  him  he  was  saying,  "Work  while  it  is 
day!"  And  yet  deeper  in  his  heart,  so  deep  that  it 
became  almost  a  prayer  for  release,  he  was  wont  to  add 
—  "  The  night  cometh  ichen  no  man  can  work ! "  Then  to 
this  he  added,  as  he  took  his  round  soft  hat  and  went 
out,  "  O  Lord,  help  me  to  do  something  worthy  before  I 
die  —  something  to  make  these  people  respect  me." 
****** 

It  was  a  hot  September  afternoon.  Drowdle  was 
a-drowse  from  Capersknowe  to  the  Back  Raw.  Here 
and  there  could  be  heard  a  dull  recurring  thud,  which 
was  the  dunt  dunt  of  the  roller  on  the  dough  of  the  bake- 
board  as  some  housewife  languidly  rolled  out  her  farles 
of  oatcake.  For  the  rest,  there  was  no  sound  save  the 
shout  of  a  call  ant  fishing  for  minnows  in  the  backwaters 


THE   RESPECT   OF   DEOWDLE  -ill 

of  Drowdle,  and  the  buzz  of  casual  bluebottles  on  thr 
dirty   window-panes. 

Suddenly  there  arose  a  cry,  dominant  and  far-reaching. 
No  words  were  andible,  but  the  tone  was  enough.  Women 
blanched  and  dropped  the  crockery  they  were  carrying. 
The  men  of  the  night-shift,  asleep  on  their  backs  in  the 
hot  and  close-curtained  wall-beds,  tumbled  into  their 
grimy  moleskins  with  a  single  movement. 

"  Number  Four  jiiV a  a-Jire!  The  pit's  a-jire!  Number 
Foicer ! " 

It  was  a  mile  to  the  particular  colliery  where  the  dan- 
ger was.  The  rows  of  houses  emptied  themselves  simul- 
taneously upon  the  white  dusty  road,  women  running 
with  men  and  barefooted  children  speeding  between,  a 
little  scared,  but,  on  the  whole,  rather  enjoying  the 
excitement. 

As  they  came  nearer,  the  great  high-mounted  head- 
wheels  of  pit  Number  Four  were  spinning  furiously,  and 
over  the  mounds  which  led  to  it  little  ant-like  figures 
were  hurrying.  A  thin  far-spreading  spume  of  brownish 
smoke  rose  sluggishly  from  the  pithead.  At  sight  of  it 
women  cried  out :  "  Oh  God,  my  Jock's  doon  there ! " 
And  more  than  one  set  her  hand  suddenly  upon  her  side 
and  swung  away  from  the  rush  into  the  hedge-root. 

A  hundred  questions  were  being  fired  at  the  steadfast 
engineer,  men  and  women  all  shouting  at  once.  He  an- 
swered such  as  he  could,  but  with  his  hand  ever  upon  the 
lever  and  his  eye  upon  the  scale  which  told  at  what  point 
the  cage  stood  in  the  long  incline  of  the  "  dook." 

"  The  fire's  in  the  main  pit-shaft,"  he  said.  "  They  are 
trying  to  get  doon  by  the  second  exit ;  but  it's  half  fu'  o' 
steam  pipes  to  drive  the  bottom  engine." 


312  THE  RESPECT   OF  DROWDLE 

"  Wha's  gane  doon  ?  " 

"  Pate  Tamson  and  Muckle  Greg  are  in  the  cage  tryin1 
to  put  the  fire  oot  wi'  the  hose " 

"  They  micht  as  weel  spit  on't  if  it's  gotten  ony  catch !  " 

"  And  Robin  Naysmith  and  the  minister  are  tryin'  the 
second  exit " 

"  The  minister " 


The  cry  was  very  scornful.  The  minister,  indeed  — 
what  good  could  "  a  boy  like  him  "  do  down  there  where 
strong  men  were  dying  helplessly  ? 

So  for  half-an-hour  Walter  McCartney,  the  pithead 
engineer,  stood  at  his  post  watching  the  cage  index,  and 
listening  for  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  which  signalled  "  up  " 
or  "  down." 

Suddenly  the  faces  of  such  as  could  see  the  numbers 
blanched.  And  a  murmur  ran  round  the  crowd  at  the 
long  t-r-r-r-r-r-r  which  told  that  the  cage  was  coming  to 
the  surface. 

Had  all  hope  been  abandoned,  that  the  rescue  party 
were  returning  so  unexpectedly  ?  A  woman  shrieked 
suddenly  on  the  edges  of  the  crowd. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  queried  the  manager,  turning  sharply. 
And  when  he  was  answered,  "  Take  her  away  —  don't 
let  her  come  near  the  shaft ! "  was  his  order. 

Out  of  the  charred  and  drippirjg  cage  came  Pate  Tam- 
son and  his  mate,  blackened  and  wet  from  head  to  foot. 

"  The  cage  is  to  be  sent  empty  to  the  dook-bottom ! " 
they  said.  "  Somebody  has  managed  to  get  doon  the 
second  exit." 

With  a  quick  switch  of  levers  and  a  humming  hiss  of 
woven  wire  from  the  head-wheels,  down  sank  the  cage 
into  the  belching  brown  smother  of  the  deadly  reek. 


THE    RESPECT  OF   DK«»\\I»LE  313 

Then  there  was  a  long  pause.     The  Lnd  k  till  it 

pointed  to  the  pit-bottom.    The  cage  had  passed  throu 
the  lire  safely.     It  had  yet  to  be  proved  thai  living  men 

could  also  pass. 

"  Tmklertinkl" 

It  was  the  bell  for  lifting.  Walter  McCartnej  com- 
pressed his  lips  on  receiving  the  signal,  and  pulled  down 
the  shiny  rap  over  his  forehead,  as  if  he  himself  w< 
about  to  face  that  whirlwind  of  fire  six  hundred  feet 
down  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  He  drew  a  long 
breath  and  opened  the  lever  for  "  Pull  Speed  Up."  The 
cage  must  have  passed  the  zone  of  nana  like  a  bird  rising 
through  a  cloud.  The  folk  silenced  themselves  as  it 
neared  the  surface.     Then  a  great  cry  arose. 

The  minister  sat  in  the  cage  with  a  couple  of  boys  in 
his  arms.  The  rough  wet  brattice  cloths  that  had  been 
placed  over  them  were  charred  almost  to  a  cinder.  Dair- 
sie  Gordon's  face  was  burnt  and  blackened. 

He  handed  the  boys  out  into  careful  hands. 

"I  am  going  down  again,"  he  said;  "unless  I  do  the 
men  will  not  believe  that  it  is  possible  to  come  alive 
through  the  fire.    Are  you  ready,  Walter  '.'    Let  her  go '  " 

So  a  second  time  the  young  minister  went  down 
through  the  furnace.  Presently  the  men  began  to  be 
whisked  up  through  the  fire,  and  as  each  relay  arrived 
at  the  pit-bank  they  sang  the  praises  of  Dairsie  Gordon, 
telling  with  Homeric  zest  how  he  had  crawled  half- 
roasted  down  the  narrow-  throat  of  the  steam-pipe-filled 
shaft,  how  he  had  argued  with  them  that  the  fire  could 
be  passed,  and  at  last  proved  it  with  two  boys  for  volun- 
teer passengers.  Dairsie  Gordon,  B.D.,  was  the  last  man 
to  leave  the  pit,  and  he  fainted  with  pain  and  excitement 


314  THE   RESPECT   OF  DROWDLE 

when  all  Drowdle  cheered  him  as  they  carried  him  home 
to  his  mother. 

And  when  at  last  he  came  to  himself,  swathed  in  cot- 
ton wool  to  the  eyes,  he  murmured,  "Do  you  not  think 
they  will  respect  me  now,  mother  ?  " 


TADMOfi   IX  THE  WILDERNESS 

The  calm  and  solemn  close  of  a  stormy  day  —  that  is 
the  impression  which  the  latter  years  of  the  life  of  Ber- 
tram Erskine  made  on  those  who  knew  him  best.  Though 
I  was  young  at  the  time,  I  well  remember  his  solitary 
house  of  Barlochan,  a  small  laird's  mansion  to  which  he 
had  added  a  tiny  study  and  a  vast  library,  turning  the 
whole  into  an  externally  curious  but  internally  comfort- 
able conglomerate  of  architecture.  The  house  stood  near 
a  little  green  depression  of  the  moorland,  shaped  like 
the  upturned  palm  of  a  hand.  In  the  lowest  part  was 
the  "  lochan  "  or  lakelet  from  which  the  place  had  its 
name,  while  the  mansion  with  its  whitewashed  gables 
and  many  chimneys  rose  on  the  brow  above  —  and,  facing 
south,  overlooked  well  nigh  a  score  of  parishes.  Th< 
was  also  a  garden,  half  hidden  behind  a  row  of  straggling 
poplars.  A  solitary  "  John  "  tended  it,  who,  in  the  time 
of  Mr.  Erskine's  predecessor,  had  doubled  his  part  of 
gardener  with  that  of  butler  at  the  family's  evening 
meal. 

Few  people  in  the  neighbourhood  knew  much  about 
the  " hermit  of  Barlochan."  Yet  he  had  borne  a  great 
part  in  the  politics  of  twenty  years  before.  He  had 
been  a  minister  of  the  Queen,  a  keen  and  vehement  de- 
bater, a  dour  political  fighter,  as  well  as  a  man  of  some 
distinction  in  letters;  he  had  suddenly  retired  from  all 
his   offices   and  emoluments    without  a  day's   warning. 

315 


316  TADMOR   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

The  reason  given  was  that  he  had  quite  suddenly  lost 
an  only  and  much  beloved  daughter. 

After  a  few  years  he  had  bought,  through  an  Edin- 
burgh lawyer,  the  little  estate  of  Barlochan,  and  it  was 
reported  that  he  meant  to  settle  in  the  district.  Upon 
which  ensued  a  clatter  of  masons  and  slaters,  joiners 
and  plasterers,  all  sleeping  in  stable-lofts,  and  keeping 
the  scantily  peopled  moorland  parish  in  a  turmoil  with 
their  midnight  predatory  raids  and  madcap  freaks. 

Then  came  waggon-load  after  waggon-load  of  books  — 
two  men  (no  less)  to  look  after  them  and  set  them  in 
their  places  on  the  shelves.  After  that,  the  advent  of 
a  housekeeper  and  a  couple  of  staid  maid-servants  with 
strange  English  accents.  Last  of  all  arrived  Bertram 
Erskine  himself,  a  tall  figure  in  gray,  stepping  out  of  a 
high  gig  at  his  own  door,  and  the  establishment  of  an 
ex-minister  of  the  Crown  was  complete. 

That  is,  with  one  exception  —  for  John  McWhan, 
gardener  to  the  ancient  owners  of  Barlochan,  was  dig- 
ging in  the  garden  when  Mr.  Erskine  went  out  on  the 
first  morning  after  his  arrival. 

"  Good-morning ! " 

John  looked  up  from  his  spade,  put  his  hand  with  the 
genuine  Galloway  reluctance  to  his  bonnet,  and  remarked, 
"  I'm  thinkin'  we'll  hae  a  braw  year  for  grosarts,  sir  !  " 

The  new  proprietor  smiled,  and  as  John  said  after- 
wards, "  Then  I  kenned  I  was  a'  richt ! " 

"  You  are  Mr.  McCulloch's  gardener  ?  " 

"  Na,  na,  sir ;  I  am  your  ain  gardener,  sir,"  answered 
John  McWhan,  promptly.  "  Coarnel  (Colonel)  McCulloch 
pat  everything  intil  my  hand  on  the  day  he  gaed  awa' 
to  the  wars  —  never  to  set  fit  on  guid  Scots  heather  mair ! " 


TADMOB    IN    THE    WILDEB  :;i, 

Mr.  El-skint'  nodded  quietly,  1  i  k.  *  -  one  who  accepts  a 
legal  obligation. 

"I  have  beard  of  you,  John,"  he  said.  ••  l  will  taki 
you  with  the  other  pendicles  of  the  estate.  You  are 
satisfied  with  jrour  former  wages?" 

"Aye,  sir,  aye — a  bonny-like  thing  thai  I  should  hae 
been  satisfied  wiJ  thretty  pound  and  a  cothi  i    fire- 

and-forty  year,  and  begiu  to  eompleen  at  this  time  o'  the 
day." 

"But  I  am  somewhat  peculiar.  John."  said  Mr.  Ers- 
kine,  smiling.  "I  see  little  company:  I  desire  to  see 
nunc  at  all.  If  you  remain  with  me,  you  must  let 
nothing  pass  your  lips  regarding  me  or  my  avocations." 

"  Ye'll  find  that  John  Mr  Whan  can  haud  his  tongue 
to  the  full  as  well  as  even  a  learned  man  like  yoursel', 
sir ! " 

"  I  have  an  uncertain  temper,  John  ! " 

"Faith,  then  ye  hae  gotten  the  verra  man  for  ye,  sir."' 
cried  John,  slapping  his  knee  delightedly.  "Lord  keep 
us,  ye  will  be  but  as  a  bairn  at  the  schule  to  what  Maister 
McCulloch  was.  I  tell  ye,  when  the  <  oarnel's  liver  was 
warslin5  wi'  him,  it  was  as  muckle  as  your  life  was  worth 
to  gang  within  bowshot  o'  him.  But  yet  he  nevei 
hairmed  John.  He  miscaaed  him  —  aya,  he  did  that  — 
till  the  ill  names  earn'  back  oot  o'  the  wood  ower  b}'e,  as 
if  the  wee  green  fairies  were  mockin'  the  sinfu'  angers  o' 
man.  But  John  never  heeded.  And  in  a  wee,  the  Coar- 
nel  wad  be  calm  as  a  plate  o'  parritch,  and  send  me  i 
the  hoose  for  his  muckle  pipe,  saying,  'John,  that  has 
dune  me  guid,  I  think  I'll  hae  a  smoke.'  Na.  na.  ye 
may  be  as  short  in  the  grain  as  ye  like,  but  after  Coarnel 
McCulloch " 


318  TADMOR   IN   THE  WILDERNESS 

At  this  point  of  his  comparison  John  felt  the  inade- 
quacy of  further  words  and  could  only  ejaculate,  "  Hoots 
awa',  man ! " 

So  in  this  fashion  John  McWhan  stayed  on  as  "  man  " 
upon  the  policies  of  Barlochan. 

That  night  at  dinner  it  was  John  who  carried  in  the 
soup  tureen  and  deposited  it  before  his  new  master,  a 
very  much  scandalised  table-maid  following  in  the  wake 
of  the  victor. 

"I  hae  brocht  ye  your  kail,  Maister  Areskine,"  he  said, 
setting  the  large  vessel  down  with  a  nourish,  "  as  I  hae 
dune  in  this  hoose  for  five-and-forty  year.  This  trimmie 
(though  Guid  forgie  me,  I  doubt  na  that  she  is  a  decent 
lass,  for  an  Englisher)  may  set  the  glesses  and  bring  ben 
the  kickshaws,  but  the  kail  and  the  roast  are  John  Mc- 
Whan's  perquisite  —  as  likewise  the  cleanin'  o'  the 
silver.  And  I  wad  thank  ye  kindly,  sir,  to  let  the  hizzie 
ken  your  mind  on  that  same  ! " 

With  these  words,  John  stood  at  attention  with  his 
hands  at  his  sides  and  his  lips  pursed,  gazing  solemnly 
at  his  master.  Mr.  Erskine  turned  round  on  his  chair, 
his  napkin  in  his  hand.  His  eyes  encountered  with 
astonishment  a  tall  figure,  gaunt  and  angular,  clad  in  an 
ancient  livery  coat  of  tarnished  blue  and  gold;  knee 
breeches,  black  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  many-clouted 
buckled  shoes  completed  an  attire  which  was  certainly  a 
marvellous  transformation  from  John's  ordinary  labour- 
ing moleskins. 

With  a  word  quiet  and  sedate,  Mr.  Erskine  satisfied 
John's  pride  of  place,  and  with  another  (the  latter  ac- 
companied with  a  certain  humorous  twinkle  of  the  eye) 
he  soothed  the  ruffled  Jane. 


TADMOE   IX   THE    WILDERNESS         310 

After  that  the  days  passed  quietly  and  uneventfully 
enough  at  Barlochan.  Mr,  Erskine'e  habits  were  regu- 
lar. He  rose  early,  he  read  much,  he  wrote  more.  The 
mail  he  received,  the  book  packets  the  carrier  brought 
him,  the  huge  sealed  letters  he  sent  off,  were  the  wonder 
of  the  country-side  —  for  a  month  or  two.  Then,  save 
fur  the  carters  who  drove  the  coal  from  the  town,  or 
brought  in  the  firewood  for  Mr.  Erskine;s  own  library 
fire  (for  there  he  burned  wood  only),  and  the  boxes  of 
provisions  ordered  from  Cairn  Edward  by  his  prim 
housekeeper  Mrs.  Lambert,  Barlochan  was  silent  and 
without  apparent  distraction. 

All  the  same  there  were  living  souls  and  busy  brains 
about  it.  The  massive  intellect  of  the  master  worked 
unknown  problems  in  the  library.  Busy  Mrs.  Lambert 
hurried  hither  and  thither  contriving  household  com- 
forts, and  developing  the  scanty  resources  of  a  moorland 
cuisine  to  their  uttermost.  Jane  and  Susan  obeyed  her 
beck,  while  out  in  the  garden  John  McWhan  dug  and 
raked,  pruned  and  planted,  his  hand  never  idle,  wh 
his  brain  busied  itself  with  his  master. 

"  It's  a  michty  queer  thing  he  doesna  gang  to  the 
kirk,"  said  John  to  himself,  "a  terrible  queer  thing  — 
hi  in  bein'  itherwise  sic  a  kindly  weel-learned  gentleman. 
I  heard  some  word  he  was  eddicated  for  the  kirk  him- 
sel'.  Oh,  that  we  had  amang  us  a  plant  o'  grace  like 
worthy  -Master  Hobbleshaw  doon  at  the  Nine-Mile-Burn, 
that  can  whup  the  guts  oot  o'  a  text  as  gleg  and  clever 
as  cleanin'  a  troot.  Faith,  I  wad  ask  him  to  come  wiJ 
me  to  oor  bit  kirk  at  Machermore,  had  we  a  man  there 
that  could  do  mair  than  peep  and  mutter.  I  wonder 
what  we  hae  dune  that  we  should  b«  afflicted  wi'  siccaD 


320  TADMOR   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

a  reed  shaken  wi'  the  wun'  as  that  feckless  bit  callant, 
Hughie  Peebles.  He  can  preach  nae  mair  than  my  cat 
Tib  —  and  as  for  unction " 

Here  again  John's  words  failed  him  under  the  press 
of  his  own  indignant  comminations.  He  could  only 
drive  the  "  graip  "  into  the  soil  of  the  Barlochan  garden, 
with  a  foot  whose  vehemence  spoke  eloquently  of  his 
inward  heat.  For  the  pulpit  of  the  little  Dissenting 
kirk  which  John  McWhan  supported  by  his  scanty  con- 
tributions (and  abundant  criticisms),  was  occupied  every 
Sabbath  day  by  that  saddest  of  all  labourers,  a  minister 
who  has  not  fulfilled  his  early  promise,  and  of  whom  his 
congregation  desire  to  be  rid. 

"  No  but  what  we  kind  o'  like  the  craitur,  too/'  John 
explained  to  his  master,  as  he  paused  near  him  in  one  of 
his  frequent  promenades  in  the  garden.  "  He  has  his 
points.  He  is  a  decent  lad,  and  wi'  some  sma'  gift  in 
intercessory  prayer.  But  he  gangs  frae  door  to  door 
amang  the  fowk,  as  if  he  were  comin'  like  a  beggar  for 
an  awmous  and  were  feared  to  daith  o'  the  dog.  Noo 
what  the  fowk  like  is  a  man  that  walks  wi'  an  air,  that 
speaks  wi'  authority,  that  stands  up  wi'  some  presence 
in  the  pulpit,  and  gies  oot  the  psalm  as  if  he  war  kind  o' 
prood  to  read  words  that  the  guid  auld  tune  o'  Kilmar- 
nock wad  presently  carry  to  the  seeventh  heevens ! " 

"And  your  minister,  John,  with  whom  you  are  dis- 
satisfied —  how  came  you  to  choose  him  ?  " 

"Weel,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  palpably  distressed, 
"  it  was  like  this  —  ye  see  fowk  are  no  what  they 
used  to  be,  even  in  the  kirk  o'  the  Marrow.  In  auld 
days  they  pickit  a  minister  for  the  doctrine  and  smed- 
dom  that  was  in  him.     'Was  he   soond   on  the  funda- 


TADIvIoR    in    THE    WILDEKNEBS         321 

mentals  ?'    f Had  he  a  grip  o'  the  Eower  Beads?'    •  \\ 

he  faithfu'  in  his  monitions  ?'  Thae  were  the  questions 
they  askit.  But  nooadays  they  maun  hae  a  laddie  fresh 
frae  the  college,  that  can  leather  aft'  a  blatter  o'  words 
like  a  bairn's  lesson.  I'm  tellin'  ye  the  truth,  sir  —  Sant 
Paul  himsel',  after  he  had  had  the  care  o'  a'  the  churches 
for  a  generation,  wadna  hae  half  the  chance  o'  a  bare- 
faced, aipple-cheekit  Loon  in  a  black  coatie  and  a  dov. 
collar.  An'  as  for  Peter,  he  wad  hae  had  juist  nan 
chance  ava.  He  wail  never  hae  gotten  sae  muckle  as  a 
smell  o'  the  short  leet." 

"  And  how  would  Saint  Peter  have  had  no  chance '.' 
Wherein  was  his  case  worse  than  Paul's'.'-'  said  Mr. 
Erskinc  smiling. 

"  Because  he  was  a  mairriet  man,  sir.  It's  a'  thae 
feckless  weemen  fowk,  sir.  A  man  o'  wecht  and  experi- 
ence  has  little  chance,  though  he  speak  wi'  the  tongue  o' 
men  and  o'  angels  —  a  mairriet  man  has  juist  nae  chance 
ava.  It's  my  solemn  opeenion  that,  when  it  comes  to 
electin'  a  new  minister,  only  respectable  unmairriet  men 
o'  fifty  years  an'  upwards  should  be  allowed  to  vote. 
It's  the  only  thing  that  will  stop  thae  awfu'  weemen 
frae  ruling  the  kirk  o'  God.  Talk  o'  the  Session  —  faith, 
it's  no  the  Session  that  bears  ride  ower  us  in  things 
speeritual — na,  na,  it's  juist  thae  petticoated  randies 
that  got  us  turned  oot  o'  Paradise  at  the  first,  and  garred 
me  hae  to  grow  your  honour's  veegetables  in  the  sweet  o' 
my  broo ! " 

"  But  why  only  unmarried  men  of  over  fifty  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Erskine,  humouring  his  servitor. 

"  For  this  reason,"  —  John  laid  down  the  points  of  his 
argument  on  the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  crooked  fore- 


322  TADMOB  IN"  THE   WILDERNESS 

finger  of  the  other,  his  foot  holding  the  "  graip  "  steady- 
in  the  furrow  all  the  while.  "  The  young  unmairriet 
men  wad  be  siccan  fules  as  to  do  what  the  young  lasses 
wanted  them  to  do,  and  the  mairriet  men  o'  a'  ages  (as 
say  the  Scriptures)  wad  necessarily  vote  as  their  wives 
bade  them,  for  the  sake  o'  peace  and  to  keep  doon  din ! " 

"  Well,  John,*'  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  I  will  go  down  to 
the  kirk  with  you  next  Sunday  morning,  and  see  what  I 
can  advise.  It  is  a  pity  that  in  this  small  congregation 
and  thinly-peopled  district  you  should  be  saddled  with 
an  unsuitable  minister  !  " 

"Eh,  sir,  but  we  wad  be  prood  to  see  ye  at  Macher- 
more  Marrow  Kirk,"  cried  John,  dusting  his  hands  with 
sheer  pleasure,  as  if  he  were  about  to  shake  hands  with 
his  master  on  the  spot.  "I  only  wish  it  had  been 
Maister  Mac  Swatter  o'  Knockemdoon  that  was  gaun  to 
preach.  He  fairly  revels  in  Daniel  and  the  Bevelations. 
He  can  gie  ye  a  screed  on  the  ten  horns  wi'  faithfu' 
unction,  and  mak'  a  maist  affectin'  application  frae  the 
consideration  o'  the  wee  yin  in  the  middle.  But  oor 
Maister  Peebles  —  he  juist  haes  nae  '  fashion '  in  him,  ony 
mair  than  a  winter-frosted  turnip  in  the  month  o'  Aprile  !  " 

In  accordance  with  his  promise  to  his  factotum,  on  the 
following  Sabbath  morning  Mr.  Erskine  walked  down  to 
the  little  Kirk  of  Machermore,  It  was  a  fine  harvest 
day  and  the  folk  had  turned  out  well,  as  is  usually  the 
case  at  that  season  of  the  year.  John  McWhan  was  too 
old  a  servant  to  dream  of  walking  with  his  master  to  the 
kirk.  He  had  "  mair  mamners,"  as  he  would  have  said 
himself.  All  the  same,  he  had  privately  communicated 
with  several  of  the  elders,  and  so  ensured  Mr.  Erskine  a 
reception  suited  to  his  dignity 


TADMOK    IX   THE    VHLDERNESS  323 

The  ex-minister  of  State  the  little  kirk 

door  b  *   Bogrie  and  Muirkitterick,  tr*  ats  on  ;i  large 

neighbouring  property.  These  were  the  Leading  Marrow 
men  in  the  disl  net,  and  much  looked  up  to,  as  both  coming 
in  their  own  gigs  to  the  kirk.  Bogrie  it  was  who  i 
the  inner  door  for  him,  and  Mtiiik  it  terick  conducted  him 
to  the  seat  of  honour  in  the  mountain  Zion,  being  the 
manse  pew,  immediately  to  the  right  of  the  pulpit. 

It  was  not  for  some  time  that  Mr.  Erskine  perceived 
that  he  did  not  sit  alone.  Being  a  little  short-sighted 
until  he  got  his  glasses  adjusted,  the  faces  of  any 
audience  or  congregation  were  always  a  blur  to  him. 
Then  all  at  once  he  noticed  a  slim  girlish  figure  in  a 
black   dress   almost  shrinking  from  it  ion   in   the 

opposite  corner.      The  service  began  immediately  after 
he  sat  down. 

The  minister  was  tall,  of  good  appearance  and  pres- 
ence, but  Mr.  Erskine  shuddered  at  the  first  grating 
notes  of  the  clerical  falsetto,  which  Mr.  Peebles  had 
adopted  solely  because  it  had  been  the  fashion  at  college 
in  his  time ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  short  prayer  before 
the  sermon  that  anything  occurred  to  fix  the  politician's 
wandering  attention. 

Then,  as  he  bent  forward,  he  heard  a  voice  near  him 
saying,  in  an  intense  inward  whisper:  "  0  Go*1,  help  my 
Hughie ! " 

He  glanced  about  him  in  astonishment.  It  was  the 
girl  in  the  black  dress.  She  had  knell  in  the  English 
fashion  when  all  the  rest  of  the  congregation  were  merely 
bending  forward  "  on  their  hunkers,"  or,  as  in  the  case 
of  not  a  few  ancient  standards  of  the  Faith,  standing 
erect  and  protestant  againsl  all  weak-hammed  defection. 


.324  TADMOE    IX   THE   WILDERNESS 

When  the  girl  arose  again  ilr.  Erskine  saw  that  her 
lips  were  trembling  and  that  she  gazed  wistfully  about 
at  the  set  and  severe  faces  of  the  congregation.  The 
minister  began  his  sermon. 

It  was  not  in  any  sense  a  good  discourse.  Rather, 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  the  hearer  found  it  fee- 
ble, flaccid,  unenlivened  by  illustration,  unfirmed  by  doc- 
trine, unclinched  by  application.  Yet  all  the  time  Mr. 
Erskine  was  saying  to  himself :  "  What  a  fool  that  young 
man  is !  He  has  a  good  voice  and  presence  —  how  easily 
he  might  study  good  models,  and  make  a  very  excellent 
appearance.  It  cannot  be  so  difficult  to  please  a  few 
score  country  farmers  and  ditchers  !  "  But  he  ended 
with  his  usual  Gallio-like  reflection  that  "After  all,  it 
is  none  of  my  business  ;  "  and  so  forthwith  removed  his 
mind  from  the  vapidity  of  the  discourse,  to  a  subj  ect  con- 
nected with  his  own  immediate  work. 

But  as  he  issued  out  of  the  little  kirk,  he  passed  quite 
close  to  the  vestry  door.  The  girl  who  had  sat  in  the 
pew  beside  him  was  coming  out  vrith  the  minister.  He 
could  not  help  hearing  her  words,  apparently  spoken  in 
answer  to  a  question :  "  It  was  just  beautiful,  Hughie ; 
you  never  preached  better  in  your  life."  And  in  the 
shadow  of  the  porch,  beiore  they  turned  the  corner,  Mr. 
Erskine  was  morally  certain  that  the  young  minister 
gave  the  girl's  arm  an  impulsive  little  hug. 

But  his  own  heart  was  heavy,  for  as  he  walked  away 
there  came  a  thought  into  his  heart.  A  resemblance 
that  had  been  haunting  him  suddenly  flashed  up  vividly 
upon  him. 

"  If  Alarjorie  had  lived  she  would  have  been  about  that 
girl's  age  —  and  like  her,  too,  pale  and  slim  and  dark." 


TADMOB    IN    THE    W  LLDERNESS 

So  all  the  way  to  his  lonely  mansion  of  BarlochaD  the 
ex-minister  of  the  Crown  thought  of  the  young  girl  v. 
had  faded  from  bis  side,  just  as  she  was  becomi:  >m- 

panion  for  the  man  who,  for  her  sake,  bad  ]>ut  his  < 
behind  him. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Erskine  sat  in  the  arbour,  while 
John  in  his  Sunday  best  tried  to  compromise  with  bis 
conscience  as  to  how  much  gardening  could  be  made  to 
come  under  the  catechistie  heading,  "  Works  of  Necessity 
and  Merc  He  solved  this  by  watering  freely,  train- 

ing and  binding  up  sparingly,  pruning  in  a  furtive  and 
shamefaced  manner  (when  nobody  was  looking),  but 
strictly  abstaining  from  the  opener  iniquities  of  weed- 
ing, digging,  or  knocking  in  nails  with  hammers.  In 
the  latter  emergency  John  kept  for  Sunday  use  the  iron- 
shod  heel  of  an  old  boot,  and  in  no  case  did  he  ever  so 
far  forget  himself  as  to  -whistle.  On  that  point  he  v. 
adamant. 

At  last,  after  hovering  nearer  and  nearer,  he  paused 
before  the  arbour  and  addressed  his  master  direct! 

"  Than  juist  settles  it !  " 

Mr.  Erskine  slowly  put  down  his  book,  still,  however, 
marking  the  place  with  his  finger. 

••  I  do  not  understand  —  what  do  you  mean  by  the 

"The  sermon  we  bad  the  day,  sir.  It  was  fair  af- 
frontir:".  The  Session  are  gaun  up  to  ask  Master  Pee- 
bles to  consider  his  resignation.  The  thing  had  neither 
beginning  o'  days  nor  end  o'  years.  It  was  withoot  form 
and  void.  It's  a  kind  o'  peety,  too,  for  the  laddie,  wi" 
that  young  Englishy  wife  that  he  has  ta'en,  on  his  hand. 
I'm  feared  she  is  no  the  kind  that  will  ever  help  to  fill 
his  meal-ark!  " 


326  TADMOB,  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,  John,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine ;  "  can  nothing  be  done,  think  you  ?  Why  don't 
they  give  the  young  man  another  chance  ?  Can  no  one 
speak  to  him  ?  There  were  some  things  about  the  ser- 
vice that  I  liked  very  much.  Indeed,  I  found  myself 
feeling  at  home  in  a  church  for  the  first  time  for  years." 

"  Did  ye,  sir  ?  That's  past  a'  thinkin' !  A'  Macher- 
more  was  juist  mournin'  and  lamentin'.  What  micht 
the  points  be  that  ye  liket  ?  I  will  tell  the  elders.  It 
micht  do  some  guid  to  the  puir  lad ! " 

Mr.  Erskine  was  a  little  taken  aback.  He  could  not 
say  that  what  pleased  him  most  in  the  service  had  sat  in 
the  manse-seat  beside  him,  had  worn  a  plain  black  dress, 
and  possessed  a  pair  of  eyes  that  reminded  him  of  a  certain 
young  girl  who  had  taken  walks  with  him  over  the  hills 
of  Surrey,  when  the  blackbirds  were  singing  in  the  spring. 

Nevertheless,  he  managed  to  convey  to  John  a  satis- 
faction and  a  hopefulness  that  were  all  the  more  helpful 
for  being  a  little  vague.  To  which  he  added  a  practical 
word. 

"  If  you  think  it  would  do  any  good,  John,  I  might 
see  one  or  two  of  the  members  of  Session  themselves." 

"  Ye  needna  trouble  yoursel',  thank  ye  kindly,  sir," 
said  John,  "  I  will  undertak'  the  job.  Though  my 
infirmity  at  orra  times  keeps  me  frae  acceptin'  the  elder- 
ship (I  hae  been  twice  eleckit),  I  may  say  that  John 
McWhan's  influence  in  the  testifyin'  and  Covenant-keep- 
ing Kirk  o'  the  Marrow  at  the  Cross-roads  o'  Machermore 
has  to  be  reckoned  wi'  —  aye,  it  has  to  be  reckoned  wi' !  " 

Nevertheless,  the  agitation  for  a  change  of  ministry 
continued  to  increase  rather  than  to  diminish.     It  took 


TADMOE   IN   THE   \VIIJh:i:m  327 

the  form  of  a  petition  to  tl  Hugh   P 

Bider  the  spiritual   o  of  the  congregation  and  forth- 

with I  >  remo^  ■  i:: m  elf  to  another  sphere  oJ  la  our. 

Now,  John  McWhan's  Zion  was  not  one  of  the 
and  richer  denominations  into  which  Presbytery  in  Scot- 
land is  unhappily  divided,  it  was  but  a  I  and  poor 
"body"  of  the  faithful,  and  such  changes  of  ministry 
that  proposed  were  frequent  enough.  The  operative 
cause  might  be  inability  to  pay  the  minister's  "steepend" 
if  it  happened  to  be  a  had  y^ur.  Or,  otherwise,  and 
more  frequently,  a  "split"'  —  a  psalm  tune  misplaced, 
an  overplus  of  fervour  in  prayer  for  the  Royal  Family  Ca 
very  deadly  sin),  or  a  laxity  in  dealing  with  a  ease  of 
discipline  —  and,  lo !  the  minister  trudged  down  the 
glen  with  his  goods  before  him  in  a  red  cart,  to  fight  his 
battle  over  again  in  another  glen,  and  a  a  people 
every  whit  as  difficult  and  touchy.  But  one  day  there 
was  an  intimation  read  out  in  the  Maehermore  Kirk  of 
the  Marrow  to  the  following  effect:  "The  Annual  Ser- 
mon of  the  Stewartry  Branch  of  the  Briti  h  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society  will  be  preached  in  the  Townhill  Kirk  at 
Cairn  Edward,  on  Sabbath  next,  at  G  p.m.,  by  the  Rev. 
Hugh  Peebles  of  the  Marrow  Kirl             iermore." 

Mr.  Peebles  read  this  through  falteringlj  .  as  if  it  con- 
cerned some  one  else,  and  then  added  a  doubtful  conclu- 
sion: "In  consequence  of  this  honour  which  has  been 
done  me,  I  know  not  "why,  there  will  be  no  service  here 
on  the  evening  of  next  Lord's  Day  ! "' 

It  was  observed  by  the  acute  that  Mrs.  Peebles  put 
her  face  into  her  hands  very  quickly  as  her  husband 
finished  reading  the  intimations. 

"Praying  for  him,  was  she?''  said  the  Marrow  folk, 


328  TADMOR   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

grimly,  as  they  went  homeward ;  "  aye,  an'  she  had 
muckle  need  ! " 

To  say  that  the  congregation  of  Machermore  was 
dumfounded  is  wholly  to  underestimate  the  state  of  their 
feelings.  They  were  aghast.  For  the  occasion  was  a 
most  notable  one. 

All  the  wale  of  the  half-dozen  central  Galloway 
parishes,  which  were  canvassed  as  one  district  by  the 
agents  of  the  Bible  Society,  would  be  there  —  the  pro- 
fessional sermon-tasters  of  twenty  congregations.  At 
least  a  dozen  ministers  of  all  denominations  (except  the 
Episcopalian)  would  be  seated  in  an  awe-inspiring  quad- 
rilateral about  the  square  elders'  pew.  The  Townhill 
Kirk,  the  largest  in  Galloway,  would  be  packed  from 
floor  to  ceiling,  and  the  sermon,  published  at  length  in 
the  local  paper,  would  be  discussed  in  all  its  bearings  at 
kirk-door  and  market-ring  for  at  least  a  month  to  come. 

And  all  these  things  must  be  faced  by  their  "reed 
shaken  with  the  wind,"  their  feckless  shadow  of  a  minis- 
ter, weak  in  doctrine,  ineffective  in  application,  utterly 
futile  in  reproof.  Hughie  Peebles,  and  he  alone,  must 
represent  the  high  ancient  liberties  of  the  Marrow  Kirk 
before  Free  Kirk  Pharisee  and  Erastian  Sadducee. 

Considering  these  things,  Machermore  hung  its  head, 
and  the  wailing  of  its  eldership  was  heard  afar.  Only 
John  McWhan,  as  he  had  promised,  kept  his  counsel, 
and  went,  about  with  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his  eye.  He 
continued  to  bring  in  the  soup  at  Barlochan  —  indeed, 
he  now  waited  all  through  dinner,  and,  though  there 
was  nothing  said  that  he  could  definitely  take  hold  upon, 
John  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  it  was  not  for  nothing 
that   the   young   minister   had  been   closeted   with   his 


TADMOB    IN    THE    WILDERNESS  329 

master  for  two  or  three  hours,  six  days  a  week,  for  the 
Last  month.  But  though  it  went  sorely  to  his  heart  thai 
he  could  not  even  bid  Machermore  and  the  folk  thereof  — 

'•  Wait  till  aexl  Sal, hath  at    six   o'clock,  an'  ye'll   mayl 
hear  something!  "  he  loyally  refrained  himself. 
****** 

At  last  the  hour  came  and  the  man.  Mr.  Erskine, 
having  ordered  a  carriage  from  the  town,  drove  the 
minister  and  his  wife  down  to  Cairn  Edward  in  Btyle. 
John  MeWlii.n  held  the  rein-,,  the  urban  "coachman" 
sitting,  a  silent  and  indignant  hireling,  on  the  lower 
place  by  his  side. 

On  the  front  seat  within  sat  Mr.  Peebles,  very  pale, 
and  with  his  hands  gripping  each  other  nervously.  But 
when  he  looked  across  at  the  calm  face  of  Mr.  Erskine, 
a  sigh  of  relief  broke  from  him.  The  Townhill  Kirk 
was  densely  crowded.  There  was  that  kind  of  breathing 
hush  over  all,  which  one  only  hears  in  a  country  kirk  on 
a  very  solemn  occasion.  Places  had  been  kept  for  young 
Mrs.  Peebles  and  Mr.  Erskine  in  the  pew  of  honour 
near  the  elders'  seat,  but  the  ex-minister  of  State,  after 
accompanying  Mrs.  Peebles  to  her  destination,  went  and 
sat  immediately  in  front  of  the  pulpit. 

■  Wondrous  weel  the  laddie  looks,"  said  one  of  the 
judges  as  Hugh  Peebles  came  in,  boyish  in  his  plain 
black  coat,  "  though  they  say  he  is  but  a  puir  craitur  for 
a'  that !  " 

•■  Appearances  are  deceitful  —  beauty  is  vain  !  "  agreed 
her  neighbour,  in  the  same  unimpassioned  whisper. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  aboul  the  "prelimina- 
ries," as  the  service  of  praise  and  prayer  was  somewhat 
slightingly  denominated  by  these  impatient  sermon-lovers. 


330  TADMOB,  IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"  Sap,  but  nae  fashion ! "  summed  up  Mistress  Elspeth 
Milligan,  the  chief  of  these,  after  the  first  prayer. 

The  preliminaries  being  out  of  the  way,  the  great  con- 
gregation luxuriously  settled  itself  down  to  listen  to  the 
sermon.  Machennore,  which  had  hidden  itself  bodily 
in  a  remote  corner  of  one  of  the  galleries,  begun  to  per- 
spire with  sheer  fright. 

"  They'll  throw  the  psalm-buiks  at  him,  I  wadna  wan- 
ner —  siccan  grand  preachers  as  they  hae  doon  here  in 
Cairn  Edward !  "  whispered  the  ruling  elder  to  a  friend. 
He  had  sneaked  in  after  all  the  others,  and  was  now  sit- 
ting on  one  of  the  steps  of  the  "  laft."  It  was  John  Mc- 
Whan  who  occupied  the  corner  seat  beside  him. 

"  Maybe  aye,  an'  maybe  no ! "  returned  John,  drily, 
keeping  his  eye  on  the  pulpit.  The  hush  deepened  as 
Hugh  Peebles  gave  out  his  text. 

"  And  he  btiilt  Tadmor  in  the  wilderness." 

Whereupon  ensued  a  mighty  rustling  of  turned  leaves, 
as  the  folk  in  the  "  airy  "  and  the  three  "  galleries  "  pur- 
sued the  strange  text  to  its  lair  in  the  second  book  of 
Chronicles.  It  sounded  like  the  blowing  of  a  sudden 
gust  of  wind  through  the  entire  kirk. 

Then  came  the  final  stir  of  settling  to  attention  point, 
and  the  first  words  of  Hugh  Peebles'  sermon.  Macher- 
more, elder  and  kirk-member,  adherent  and  communicant, 
young  and  old,  bond  and  free,  crouched  deeper  in  their 
recesses.  Some  of  the  more  bashful  pulled  up  the  collars 
of  their  coats  and  searched  their  Bibles  as  if  they  had  not 
yet  found  the  text.  The  seniors  put  on  their  glasses  and 
stared  hard  at  the  minister  as  if  they  had  never  seen 
him  before.  They  did  not  wish  it  to  appear  that  he 
belonged  to  them. 


TADMOB    IN    THE    WILDERNESS         331 

But  when  the  first  notes  of  the  preacher's  voice  fell  "n 
their  astonished   ears,  it    is  recorded   that  some  of  the 

more  impulsive  stood  up  on  theii  feet. 

That  was  never  their  despised  minister,  Hughie  Pee- 
bles. The  strong  yet  restrained  diction,  the  firmness  of 
speech,  the  resonance  of  voice  in  the  deeper  notes  —  all 
were  strange,  yet  somehow  curiously  familiar.  They 
had  heard  them  all  before,  but  never  without  that  terri- 
ble alloy  of  weakness,  and  the  addition  of  a  falsetto 
something  that  made  the  preacher's  words  empty  and 
valueless. 

And  the  sermon  —  well,  there  never  had  been  any- 
thing like  it  heard  in  the  Ten  Parishes  before.  There 
was,  first  of  all,  that  great  passage  where  the  preach  <r 
pictured  the  Wise  King  sending  out  his  builders  and 
carpenters,  his  architects  and  cunning  workmen  —  those 
very  men  who  had  caused  the  Temple  to  rise  on  Moriah 
and  set  up  the  mysterious  twin  pillars  thereof  —  to  build 
in  that  great  and  terrible  wilderness  a  city  like  to  none 
the  world  had  ever  seen.  There  was  his  gradual  open- 
ing up  of  the  text,  and  applying  it  to  the  sending  of  the 
Word  of  God  to  the  heathen  who  dwelt  afar  off  —  with- 
out God  and  without  hope  in  the  world. 

Then  came  the  searching  personal  appeal,  which 
showed  to  each  clearly  that  in  his  own  heart  there  were 
wilderness  tracts  —  as  ban-en,  as  deadly,  as  apparently 
hopeless  as  the  ground  whereon  Solomon  set  up  his  won- 
der-city—  Tadmor,  Palmyra,  the  city  of  temples  and 
palaces  and  palm-trees. 

And  above  all,  the  preacher's  application  was  long 
remembered,  his  gradual  uprising  from  the  picture  of  the 
earthly  king,  "  golden-robed  in  that  abyss  of  blue,"   to 


332  TADMOR   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

the  Great  King  of  all  the  worlds  —  "  He  who  can  make 
the  wilderness,  whether  that  of  the  heathen  in  distant 
lands  and  far  isles  of  the  sea,  or  that  other  more  diffi- 
cult, the  wilderness  in  our  own  breasts,  to  blossom  as  the 
rose !  "  These  things  will  never  be  forgotten  by  any  in 
that  congregation. 

Once  only  Hugh  Peebles  faltered.  It  was  but  for  a 
moment.  He  gasped  and  glanced  down  to  the  first  seat 
in  the  front  of  the  church.  Then  in  another  moment  he 
had  gripped  himself  and  resumed  his  argument.  Some 
there  were  who  said  that  he  did  this  for  effect,  to  show 
emotion,  but  there  were  two  men  in  that  congregation 
who  knew  better  —  the  preacher  and  Mr.  Erskine. 

All  Machermore  went  home  treading  on  the  viewless 
air.  They  hardly  talked  to  each  other  for  sheer  joy  and 
astonishment.  "  Dinna  look  as  if  we  were  surprised, 
lads  !  Let  on  that  we  get  the  like  o'  that  every  day  in 
oor  kirk  ! " 

That  was  John  McWhan's  word,  which  passed  from 
lip  to  lip.  And  Machermore  and  the  Marrow  Kirk 
thereof  became  almost  insufferably  puffed  up. 

"  I'll  no  say  a  word  mail,"  said  the  ruling  elder,  "  gin 
he  never  preaches  anither  decent  word  till  the  day  o'  his 
death." 

This  was,  indeed,  the  general  sense  of  the  congrega- 
tion. But  Hugh  Peebles,  though  perhaps  he  never 
reached  the  same  pinnacle  of  fame,  certainly  preached 
much  better  than  of  old.  With  his  wonderful  success, 
too,  he  had  gained  a  certain  confidence  in  himself ;  added 
to  which  he  was  almost  as  often  at  Barlochan  as  before 
the  missionary  sermon. 

His  wife  came  with  him  sometimes  in  the  evenings  to 


TADMOK    IN    T1IK    V\  I 

dinner,  and  then  Mr.  Ersl     •"    ■  .•■■  I  dwell  on  I 

with  a  kind  of  gladness.     For  a<  >ur  in 

her  cheek  and  a  proud  lool 

been  there   on   the   day    when    he   had    firsl   heard  her 

pray:  "0  God,  help  my  Hughie  !  "  in  the  s  ruare  manse 

pew. 

God  had  indeed  helped  Hughie  —  as   He  mostrj  d 
through  human  agency.     And  .Mr.  Erskine  was  happier 
too.     He  had  found  an  object  in  life,  and.  on  the  who 
his  pupil  did  him  great  credit. 

He  also  inserted  a  clause  in  his  will,  which  i 
that  Hugh  and  his  wife  shall  not  be  dependent  in  thi 
old  age  upon  the  goodwill  of  a  faithful  but  scanty  flock. 

And  as  for  Hugh  Peebles,  probable  plagiarist,  he  writes 
his  own  sermons  now,  though  he  always  submits  them 
before  preaching  to  his  wise  friend  up  at  Parlochan. 
But  it  is  for  his  first  success  that  he  is  always  asked 
when  he  goes  from  home.  There  is  a  never-failing  post- 
script to  any  invitation  from  a  clerical  brother  upon  a 
sacramental  occasion:  "The  congregation  will  be  dread- 
fully disappointed  if  you  do  not  give  us  •  Tadmor  in 
Wilderness.' " 

And  Hugh  Peebles  never  disappoints  them. 


PETEBSON'S   PATIENT 

When  I  go  out  on  the  round  of  a  morning  I  generally 
take  John  with  me.  John  is  my  "  man,"  and  of  course 
it  is  etiquette  that  he  should  drive  me  to  my  patients' 
houses.  But  sometimes  I  tell  him  to  put  in  old  Black 
Bess  for  a  long  round-about  journey,  and  then,  in  that 
case,  I  can  drive  myself. 

For  Black  Bess  is  a  real  country  doctor's  horse.  She 
will  stand  at  a  loaning  foot  with  the  reins  hitched  over 
a  post  —  that  is,  if  you  give  her  a  yard  or  so  of  head 
liberty,  so  that  she  may  solace  herself  with  the  grass 
and  clover  tufts  on  the  bank.  Even  without  any  grass 
at  all,  she  will  stand  by  a  peat-stack  in  as  profound  a 
meditation  as  if  she  were  responsible  for  the  diagnosis 
of  the  case  within.  I  honestly  believe  Bess  is  more  than 
half  a  cow,  and  chews  the  cud  on  the  sly.  So  whenever 
I  feel  a  trifle  lazy,  I  take  the  outer  round  and  Black 
Bess,  leaving  the  town  and  what  the  ambitious  might 
call  its  "  suburbs  "  to  Dr.  Peterson,  my  assistant.  Not 
that  this  helps  me  much  in  the  long  run,  because  I  have 
to  keep  track  of  what  is  going  on  in  Peterson's  head  and 
revise  his  treatment.  For,  though  his  zeal  and  know- 
ledge are  always  to  be  counted  on,  Peterson  is  apt  to  be 
lacking  in  a  certain  tact  which  the  young  practitioner 
only  acquires  by  experience. 

For  instance,  to  take  the  important  matter  of  diagnosis, 

Peterson  used  to  think  nothing  of  standing  silent  five  or 

334 


I'KTFJ; sows    |»ATIENT  336 

tenminutes  making  up  his  mind  whal  was  the  matter 
with  a  patient.     I  once  told  him  about  this. 

"Why,"  he  replied,  with,  I  must  me  slight  dis- 

respect for  his   senior,   "you   often   do   thai  •  It. 

You  said  this  very  morning  that   it    rook    yon   twei 
minutes  to  make  np  your  mind  whether  to  treal    Job 
Sampson's  wife  for  scarlet  fever  or  for  diphtheria!" 

"  Yes,"  I  retorted,  "  1  told  you  so,  but  I  didn't  stand 
agape  all  the  time  I  was  thinking  it  out.  I  took  the 
temperature  of  the  woman's  armpits,  and  the  back  of  her 
link,  mid  between  her  toes.  I  asked  her  about  her 
breakfast,  and  her  dinner,  and  her  supper  of  tin-  day 
before.  Then  I  took  a  turn  at  her  sleeping  pow<  .  and 
whether  she  had  been  eating  too  many  vegetables  lately. 
I  inquired  if  she  had  had  the  measles,  and  the  whooping- 
cough,  and  how  often  she  had  been  vaccinated.  1  was 
just  going  to  begin  on  her  father,  mother,  and  collateral 
relatives  in  order  to  trace  hereditary  tendencies,  when  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  it  would  be  safest  to  treat  the 
woman  for  scarlet  fever." 

"Yes,"  said  Peterson,  drily,  "Job  was  praising  you 
ii] >  to  the  skies  this  very  day.  'There  never  was  sic  a 
careful  doctor,' he  swears ;  'there  wasna  ;i  blessed  thing 
that  he  didna  speer  into,  even  unto  the  third  and  fourth 
generation.' " 

"There,  you  hear,  Peterson,"  I  said,  with  sober 
triumph,  "that  is  the  first  step  in  your  profession. 
You  must  create  confidence.  Never  let  them  think  for 
a  moment  you  don't  know  everything.  Why.  old  N 
Harper  sent  for  me  to-day  —  said  you  didn't  understand 
the  case,  because  you  declined  to  prescribe." 

"He  is  malingering,"  cried  Peterson,  hotly;  "he  only 


336  PETERSON'S   PATIENT 

wants  to  draw  full  pay  out  of  his  two  benefit  societies. 
The  man  is  a  fraud,  open  and  patent.  I  wouldn't  have 
anything  to  do  with  him." 

"  Now,  Peterson,"  I  said  very  seriously,  "  once  for  all, 
this  is  my  practice,  not  yours.  You  are  my  salaried 
assistant.  That  is  what  you  have  to  attend  to.  You 
are  not  revising  auditor  of  the  local  benefit  societies.  If 
you  do  as  you  did  with  old  Harper  a  time  or  two,  you 
will  lose  me  my  appointment  as  Society's  doctor,  and 
not  that  one  appointment  alone.  They  all  follow  each 
other  like  a  flock  of  sheep  jumping  through  a  slap  in  a 
dyke.  Besides,  the  Benefit  Society  officials  don't  thank 
you,  not  a  bit !  They  expect  Harper  to  do  as  much  for 
them  the  next  time  they  feel  like  taking  a  holiday  be- 
tween the  sheets ! " 

"  What  would  you  do  then  ?  "  cried  this  furious  young 
apostle  of  righteousness.  "  You  surely  would  not  have 
me  become  art  and  part  in  a  swindle  ?  " 

I  patted  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Temper  your  zeal  with  discretion,  my  friend,"  I  said. 
"  I  have  found  a  rising  blister  between  the  shoulder- 
blades  very  efficacious  in  such  cases." 

Yet  my  immaculate  assistant,  had  he  only  known  it, 
was  to  go  further  and  fare  worse. 

*  *  #  #  #  # 

Meanwhile  to  pass  the  time  I  told  him  the  story  of  old 
Maxwell  Bone.  Peterson  was  clearly  getting  restive,  and 
it  is  not  good  for  young  men  of  the  medical  profession 
to  think  that  they  know  everything  at  five-and-twenty. 
Maxwell  was  an  aged  hedger-and-ditcher,  who  lived  in  a 
tumble-down  cottage  at  the  upper  end  of  Whinnyliggate. 
Of  that  parish  I  was  (and  still  am)  parish  doctor,  and 


PKTKRSOX-S      ATIENT  337 

Maxwell  being  in  receipt  of  half-a-crown  a  week  a£  paro- 
chial supplement  to  his  scanty  earnings,  I  v. 
responsible  for  Maxwell's  state  of  bealth,  and  compelled 
in  terms  of  my  contracl  to  0003  ai  onable  summi 

I  might  receive  from  him. 

Upon  several  occasions  I  had  prescribed  for  the  old 
ruffian,  chiefly  Eor  rheumatism  and  the  various  internal 
pains  and  weaknesses  affected  by  ancienl  paupers.  Winn 
I  was  going  away  on  one  occasion  Maxwell  asked  me  for 
an  order  on  the  Inspector  of  Poor  Eor  a  bottle  of  brandy 
"for  outward  application  only."  I  refused  him  promptly, 
telling  him  with  truth  thai  he  was  far  better  withoul  it. 

"Weel,  doctor,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head,  "dootless 
ye  ken  best.  Bui  there's  nocht  like  brandy  when  thae 
stammack  pains  come  on  me.  It  micht  save  ye  a  La 
journey  some  cauld  snawy  nicht.  The  guard  0'  the  I 
train  will  tak'  cloon  ony  message  frae  the  junction,  and  b 
I  dinna  get  the  brandy  to  hae  at  baud  to  rub  my  legs  wi' 
ye  micht  hae  a  lang  road  to  travel  !  Bu1  -in  ye  let  me 
hae  it,  doctor,  it  micht  save  ye  a  heap  0'  trouble " 

"The  old  wretch!  *'  cried  Peterson.     "Of  i  you 

did  not  let  him  have  it  ?  " 

"Peterson/'   I   replied    sententiously,    "  I    decline    to 

answer  you.     Wait  till  you  have  1 n  a  winter  here  and 

know  what  a  thirty-mile  drive  in  a  raging  snowstorm  to 
the  head-end  of  the  parish  of  Whinnyliggate  means. 
Then  you  will  not  have  much  doubt  whether  Maxwell 
got  his  brandy  or  not." 

Now  Peterson  was  really  a  very  excellent  fellow,  and 
when  he  had  run  his  head  against  thereq  lisite  uumberof 
stone  walls,  and  learned  to  bite  hard  on  his  tongue  wh<  n 
tempted  to  over-hasty  speech,  he  made  iist- 


338  PETERSON'S  PATIENT 

ant.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  him  when  the  time 
comes. 

For  one  thing  Nance  is  fond  of  him,  especially  since 
he  fell  in  love,  and  that  goes  for  a  great  deal  in  our  house. 
Peterson  performed  the  latter  feat  quite  suddenly  and  un- 
expectedly, as  he  did  everything.     It  happened  thuswise. 

I  had  had  a  hard  winter,  and  Nance  was  needing  a 
change,  so,  about  Easter,  I  took  her  south,  for  a  few 
weeks  in  the  mild  and  recuperative  air  of  the  Regent 
Street  bonnet  shops.  I  have  noted  more  than  once  that 
in  Nance's  case  the  jewellers'  windows  along  Bond  Street 
possess  tonic  qualities,  quite  unconnected  with  going  in- 
side to  buy  anything,  as  also  the  dark  windows  of  certain 
merchant  tailors  in  which  the  patient  can  see  her  new 
dress  and  hat  reflected  as  in  a  mirror.  As  for  me,  I 
enjoyed  the  British  Medical  Club  and  the  Scientific 
Museums  —  which,  of  course,  was  what  I  came  for. 

But  when  we  went  back  home  we  found  that  Peterson's 
daily  report  of  cases  had  not  conveyed  all  the  truth. 
Peterson  himself  was  changed.  So  far  as  I  could  gather, 
he  seemed  to  have  done  his  work  very  well  and  to  have 
given  complete  satisfaction.  He  had  even  added  the 
names  of  several  new  patients  to  my  list.  One  of  these 
was  that  of  a  somewhat  large  proprietor  in  a  neighbour- 
ing parish,  who  was  said  to  be  exceedingly  eccentric,  but 
of  whom  I  knew  nothing  save  by  the  vaguest  report. 

"  How  did  you  get  hold  of  old  Bliss  Bulliston  ? "  I 
asked  my  assistant,  as  I  glanced  over  the  list  he  handed 
me.  We  were  sitting  smoking  in  the  study  while  Nance 
was  unpacking  upstairs  and  spreading  her  new  things  on 
the  bed,  amid  the  rapturous  sighs  and  devotionally  clasped 
hands  of  Betty  Sim,  our  housemaid. 


PETEBSON'S    PATIENT 

Peterson  turned  away  towards  the  mantelpiece  for  an- 
other spill.    I  [e  appeared  to  have  a  difficulty  wil  h  his  pipe. 

■•  Well,  I  don't  exactly  know,"  he  said  at   last,  when 
the  problem  was  solved;  "it  just  came  about  someh 
You  know  how  these  things  happen." 

"They   generally    happen    in   our    profession   by    the 
patient  sending  for  the  physician,"  I   remarked  drily. 
"I  hope  you  have  not  been  poaching  on  any  one  e! 
preserves,  Peterson.      Did  Bulliston  send  for  you?" 

Peterson  stooped  for  a  coal  to  light  his  pipe.  It  had 
gone  out  again.  Perhaps  it  was  the  exertion  that  red- 
dened his  handsome  face. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly,  "  he  did  not  send  for  me.  1 
went  of  my  own  accord." 

I  started  from  my  seat. 

"Why,  man,"  I  cried,  "you'll  get  me  struck  off  the 
register,  not  to  speak  of  yourself.  You  don't  mean  to 
say  that  you  went  to  the  house  touting  for  custom '.'  *' 

"  Now  don't  get  excited,"  he  said,  smoking  calmly, 
"and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

I  became  at  once  violently  calm.  Nevertheless,  in 
spite  of  this,  it  took  some  time  to  get  him  under  way. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  Bulliston  has  got  a  daughter." 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  so  you  were  called  in  to  attend  on  ]\I  cs. 
Bulliston  ?  " 

"  When  I  say  he  has  a  daughter,  I  mean  a  grown-up 
daughter,  not  an  infant ! " 

Peterson  seemed  quite  unaccountably  ruffled  by  my 
innocent  remark.  I  thought  of  pointing  out  to  him  the 
advantages  of  habitual  clearness  of  speech,  but,  on  the 
whole,  decided  to  let  him  tell  his  story,  for  I  was  really 
very  anxious  about  Bulliston. 


340  PETERSON'S   PATIENT 

"Well,"  I  said  soothingly,  "did  Miss  Bulliston  call 
3rou  iii '.  " 

"  It  might  be  looked  at  that  way,"  he  said. 

••  Wha1  was  the  case?" 

••  A  nest  of  peregrine's  eggs  near  the  top  of  Carslaw 
Craig." 

"Peterson!"  I  exclaimed  somewhat  sternly,  '-don't 
forget  that  I  am  talking  to  you  seriously  !  " 

But  he  continued  smoking. 

"  I  am  perfectly  serious,"  he  said,  and  stopped.  After 
he  hud  thought  awhile  he  continued:  "It  happened  at 
the  end  of  the  first  week  you  were  away.  I  had  left 
John  at  home.  I  had  old  Black  Bess  with  me  —  you 
know  she  will  stand  anywhere.  I  took  the  long  round  and 
Avas  coming  home  a  little  tired.  As  I  drove  past  the 
end  of  Carslaw  Hill,  happening  to  look  up  I  saw  some- 
thing sticking  to  the  sheer  face  of  the  cliff  like  a  fly  on 
a  wall.  At  first  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes,  for  when  I 
came  nearer  I  saw  it  was  a  girl.  She  seemed  to  be  call- 
ing for  help.  So  of  course  I  jumped  down  and  tied  old 
Bess  to  a  post  by  the  roadside.  Then  I  began  to  climb 
up  towards  her,  but  I  soon  saw  that  I  could  not  help  the 
girl  that  way  —  to  do  her  any  good,  that  is.  So  I  shouted 
to  her  to  hold  on  and  I  would  get  at  her  over  the  top. 

"  I  ran  up  an  easier  place,  where  the  hill  slopes  away 
to  the  left,  and  came  down  opposite  where  the  girl  was. 
She  had  got  to  within  ten  feet  of  the  top,  but  could  not 
get  a  bit  higher  to  save  her  life.  It  looked  almost 
impossible,  but  luckily,  right  on  top  there  was  a  hazel- 
bush,  and  I  caught  hold  of  the  lower  boughs  —  three  or 
four  of  them  —  and  lowered  my  legs  down  over  the 
edge. 


SON'S    Pi  :;il 

"'Catch  ho  my  ankles,'  I  Bhouted, 'and  I'll  pull 

you  up.5 

••■  Can't;  they're  too  thick!' the  girl  cried;  and  from 
that  1  judged  ahe  must  be  a  pretty  cool  one. 

"'Then  catch  hold  of  one  of  them  in  both  hands!'  1 
Bhouted. 

"  '  Right ! '  she  said,  and  gripped. 

••  And  it  was  ;is  well  that  she  did  not  take  my  firsl 
offer,  for.  as  it  turned  out,  1  had  all  I  could  do  to  gel  her 
ap,  jamming  the  toe  of  my  other  boot  in  tin-  crevices 
and  barking  my  knee  against  the  hazel  roots.  Still.  1 
managed  ;;  finally." 

"Whereupon    she    promptly    fainted    away    in    your 

arms."  I  interjected,  "and  you  recovered  her  with  some 

smelling-salts    and   sal  volatile   yon    happened  to   have 

lnought  in  your  tail-coat  pockets  in  view  of  such  erner- 

icies." 

••Not  at  all,''  said  Peterson,  quite   unabashed;   " 
didn't  faint  —  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.     Instead, 
she  got  behind  the  hazel-bush  I  had  been  hanging  on  to. 

"'Stop  where  you  are  a  moment,'  she  spluttered;  -till 
I  get  rid  of  these  horrid  eggs.     Then  I'll  talk  to  you.'  ' 

"  Tears  of  beauty  : '"  I  cried;  "emotion  hidden  behind 
a  hazel-bush.  ■  Alfred,  you  have  saved  my  life  —  accept 
my  hand.'  That  was  what  she  really  said  to  you  —  you 
know  it  was,  Peterson." 

••  Not  much."  said  Peterson.  "  She  was  back  again  in 
a  trice,  and.  if  you'll  believe  inc.  started  in  to  give  it  me 
hot  and  strong  for  smashing  her  blissful  birds'  eggs. 

•■  •  Here  I've  been  watching  this  peregrine  for  weeks, 
and  I'd  got  two  beauties,  and  just   because  I  -tuck  a 

bit  on  the  cliff  you  must  come  along  and  jolt  me 


342  PETERSON'S  PATIENT 

I  have  broken  both  of  them  —  one  was  in  my  mouth,  and 
the  other  I  had  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief.' 

"  But  I  told  the  girl  that  I  knew  where  I  could  get  her 
another  pair  and  also  a  rough-legged  buzzard's  nest,  and 
that  did  a  lot  to  comfort  her.  She  was  a  pretty  girl, 
though  I  don't  believe  she  had  ever  given  it  a  thought ; 
and  she  was  dead  on  to  getting  enough  birds'  eggs  to  beat 
her  brother,  who  had  said  that  a  girl  could  never  get  as 
good  a  collection  as  a  boy,  because  of  her  petticoats !  " 

"  And  where  are  you  going  to  get  those  eggs  ?  "  I  said 
to  Peterson.  "  If  you  think  that  hunting  falcons'  eggs 
for  roving  school-girls  comes  within  your  duties  as  my 
assistant  —  well,  I  shall  have  to  explicate  your  responsi- 
bilities to  you,  that's  all,  young  man ! " 

Peterson  laid  his  finger  lightly  on  his  cheek,  not  far 
from  the  bridge  of  his  nose. 

"  You  know  old  Davie  Slimmon,  the  keeper  up  at  the 
lodge  ?  You  remember  I  doctored  his  foot  when  he 
got  it  bitten  with  an  adder.  Well,  anyway,  he  would 
do  anything  for  me.  I've  had  Davie  on  the  egg-hunt 
ever  since." 

"  And  the  girl  thinks  you  are  getting  them  all  your- 
self," I  said,  with  some  severity.  "  Peterson,  this  is  both 
unbecoming  and  unscientific.  More  than  that,  you  are 
a  blackguard." 

"Oh,"  said  Peterson,  lightly,  "it's  all  right.  I  go 
regularly  to  see  the  old  boy.  He  is  a  patient  properly 
on  the  books,  and  when  all  is  over,  you  can  charge 
him  a  swingeing  fee.  Well,  to  begin  at  the  beginning, 
each  time  I  saw  the  girl  I  took  her  all  the  eggs  I  could 
pick  up  in  the  interval.  I  got  them  properly  blown  and 
labelled  —  particulars,  habitat,  how  many  in  the  clutch, 


PETERSON'S    PATIENT 

whether  the  nesl  was  oriented  due  east  and  i  bet 

made  of  sticks  or  weeds  or  curl-papers,  th      .    ■  oi  the 

shell  in  fractions  of  a  millimetri '* 

"Peterson,"  I  said  sternly,"]  don't  believe  yon  t 

the  remotest  idea  what  a  millimel  i 

"  NO  more  I  have,"  answered  Peterson,  stoutly,  not  in 
the  least,  put  out;  "bul  then,  no  more  has  she.  And  it. 
looks  well — thundering  well!"  In-  added,  after  a 
ruminant  consideration  of  the  visionary  labelled  <• 
••  You've  no  idea  what  a  finish  these  tickets  give  to  the 
collection." 

"So  this  was  Miss  Bulliston,"  I  said,  to  bring  him 
back  to  the  point  in  which  I  was  most  immediately 
interested.  "That's  all  very  well,  but  what  was  the 
matter  with  old  Bliss,  her  father  ?  " 

Peterson  looked  as  if  he  would  have  winked  if  he  had 
dared,  but  the  sternness  in  my  eye  checked  him. 

"  Something  nervous,"  he  said,  gazing  at  me  blankly. 
"Truda  kept  stirring  him  up  till  the  poor  old  boy 
nearly  fretted  himself  into  a  fever,  and  so  had  me  sent 
for.  Oh,  I  was  properly  enough  called  in.  You  needn't 
look  like  that,  McQuhirr.  You've  no  gratitude  for  my 
getting  you  a  good  paying  patient.  I  tell  you  the  old 
man  was  so  frightened  that  Truda " 

"  It  had  got  to  <  Truda,'  had  it  *.' "  I  interjected  bit- 
terly. But  Peterson  took  no  notice,  going  composedly 
on  with  his  story. 

"...  Truda  ran  all  the  way  to  the  lodge  gates,  where 
I  was  waiting  with  two  kestrels'  and  a  marsh-harrier, 
unblown,  but  all  done  up  in  cotton  wool." 

"  What ! "  I  cried,  "  the  birds  ?  " 

"No,  the  eggs,  of  course,"  said   Peterson:  '-and    she 


344  PETERSONS   PATIENT 

said :  '  What  have  you  got  there  ? '  So  I  told  her  two  kes- 
trels' and  a  marsh-harrier.  Then  she  said  :  '  Is  that 
all  ?  I  thought  you  would  have  got  that  kite's  you 
promised  me  by  this  time.  But  come  along  and  cure 
my  father  of  the  cholera,  and  the  measles,  and  the  dis- 
temper, and  the  spavin  !  He's  got  them  all  this  morning, 
besides  several  other  things  I've  forgot  the  names  of. 
Come  quick  !  Cousin  Jem  from  London  is  with  him. 
He'll  frighten  him  worse  than  anybody.  I'll  take  you 
up  through  the  shrubbery.     Give  me  your  hand  ! ' 

"  So  she  took  my  hand,  and  we  ran  up  together  to  the 
house." 

"  Peterson,"  I  said,  "  you  and  I  have  a  monthly  en- 
gagement. On  this  day  month  I  shall  have  no  further 
occasion  for  your  services.  Suppose  any  one  had  seen 
you !  What  would  they  have  thought  of  Dr.  McQuhirr's 
assistant  ?  " 

"  I  never  gave  it  a  thought,"  he  said,  waving  the  in- 
terruption away ;  "  and  anyway,  if  all  tales  are  true, 
you  did  a  good  deal  of  light  skirmishing  up  about  Nether 
Neuk  in  your  own  day  !  " 

Now  this  was  a  most  uncalled-for  remark,  and  I 
answered :  "  That  may  be  true  or  not,  as  the  case  may 
be.  But,  at  all  events,  I  was  no  one's  locum  tenens  at 
that  time." 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  it's  no  use  making  a  fuss  now,  Mc- 
Quhirr.  Nobody  saw  us,  and  as  soon  as  we  got  to  the 
open  part  near  the  house,  Truda  said :  '  Now  I'm  going 
to  get  these  eggs  fixed  into  their  cases.  So  you  trot 
round  and  physic  up  the  old  man.  And  mind  and  ask 
to  see  his  collection  of  dog-whips.  It  is  the  finest  in  the 
world.      We  all  collect  something  here.      Pa  is  crazy 


PETERSON'S    PATIENT 

about  dog-whips.     And  it'  you  can'1   find  anythin 
wrong  with  him,  tell  him  that  his  •  t  cutting. 

They  always  do!' 

••  •  Bui  i  haven't  a  knife  with  me,'  i  objected. 

••  •  I'll  lend  you  a  ripper.'     (Truda  had  an  answer  ready 
everj    time.)      -I    keep  it  edged   like  ;i  razor.      It 
cobbler's  leather  knife.     It   will  make  tin-  shavings  fly 
dad's  "id  cuius,  1  tell  you  ! ' 

••  •  lint  I  never  pared  ;i  corn  in  my  life,'  I  said. 

"'Then  you've  jolly  well  got  to  now,  my  friend,!  she 
said,  'for  I've  yarned  it  to  him  that  his  life  may  depend 
on  it,  and  that  only  a  trained  surgeon  can  operate  en 
his  sort.  So  don*t  you  give  me  away,  or  he  may  let  you 
have  the  contents  of  a  shot-gun  as  you  go  out  through 
the  front  window.  And  what  will  happen  to  me,  I  don't 
know.     Now  go  on  ! ' 

"  And  with  that  she  vanished  in  the  direction  of  the 
stables." 

"A  most  lively  young  lady  !  "  I  cried,  with  enthusia 

"  Um-ni,"  granted  Peterson  (I  have  often  had  eause 
to  remark  Peterson's  gruffness).  "  Lively,  you  think  ? 
Well,  she  nearly  got  me  into  a  pretty  mess  with  her 
liveliness.  The  butler  put  me  into  a  waiting-room  out 
of  the  hall.  It  was  all  sparred  round  with  fishin.ur-ii>il>. 
and  had  crossed  trophies  of  dog-whips  festooned  about 
the  walls.  I  waited  here  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
listening  to  the  rumbling  bark  of  an  angry  voice  in  the 
distance,  and  wondering  what  the  mischief  Truda  had 
let  me  in  for. 

"  Presently  the  girl  came  round  to  the  open  window, 
and  as  the  sill  was  a  bit  high  she  gave  a  sort  of  sidelong 
jump  and  sat  perched  on  the  ledge  outside. 


346  PETERSON'S   PATIENT 

" '  You  are  a  great  donkey,'  she  said,  looking  in  at  me ; 
1  both  the  kestrels'  are  set  as  hard  as  a  rock — here,  take 
them  ! ' 

"  And  with  that  she  threw  the  eggs  in  at  me  one  after 
another  through  the  open  sash  of  the  window.  One  took 
me  right  on  the  pin  of  my  tie  and  dripped  on  to  my 
waistcoat.  Smell  ?  Well,  rather !  Just  then  the  old 
butler  came  in,  looking  like  a  field-marshal  and  arch- 
bishop rolled  in  one,  and  there  was  I  rubbing  the  abomi- 
nable yolk  from  my  waistcoat.  Truda  had  dropped  off 
the  window-sill  like  a  bird,  and  the  old  fellow  looked 
round  the  room  very  suspiciously.  I  think  he  thought 
I  must  have  been  pocketing  the  spoons  or  some- 
thing. 

"  <  Mr.  Bliss  Bulliston  waits ! '  he  said,  as  if  he  were 
taking  me  into  the  presence-chamber  of  royalty.  And  so 
he  was,  by  George  !  I  was  shown  into  a  large  library- 
looking  room  where  two  men  were  sitting.  One  was  a 
little  Skye-terrier  of  a  man,  with  bristly  gray  hair  that 
stood  out  everyway  about  his  head.  He  was  lying  in  a 
long  chair,  half  reclining,  a  rug  over  his  knees  though 
the  day  was  warm.  The  other  man  sat  apart  in  the 
window,  a  quiet  fellow  to  all  appearance,  bald-headed, 
and  rather  tired-looking. 

"  ( You  are  the  doctor  from  Cairn  Edward  my  daughter 
has  been  pestering  me  to  see  ? '  snapped  the  elder  man. 
'My  case  is  a  very  difficult  and  complicated  one,  and 
quite  beyond  the  reach  of  an  average  local  practitioner, 
but  I  understand  from  my  daughter  that  you  have  very 
special  qualifications.'  Whereupon  I  bowed,  and  said 
that  I  was  your  assistant." 

"  Good  heavens ! "   I  cried.      "  Peterson,  had  you  no 


PETEBSON'S    PATIENT 

sense?     Why  on  earth  did  you  bring  my  name  into  the 

affair  ?     I  shall  never  get  over  it  !  " 
"Oh,"'  he  answered  lightly,  "wail  a  bit      I   cleared 

you  sufficiently  in  the  end.     Just  listen. 

"I  was  in  a  tight  pi  m  will  admit,  hut    I   fchoi 

it  was  best  to  put  on  m\  mosl  impressive  manner,  and 
after  a  look  or  two  at  the  old  fellow,  I  resolved  to  fcr< 

him  for  nervous  exhaustion.  It  was  a  dead  fluke,  hut  1 
had  been  reading  Webb-Playfair's  article  on  Neuras- 
thenia just  hefore  I  went  out,  and  though  men  don't 
often  have  it,  I  thought  it  would  do  as  well  for  old 
Bulliston  as  anything  else. 

"  So  I  yarned  away  to  him  about  his  condition  and 
symptoms,  emaciated  physical  state,  and  so  forth.  Well, 
when  I  was  getting  pretty  well  warmed  up  1  saw  the 
young  man  with  the  hair  thin-sown  on  top  rise  and  go 
quietly  over  to  another  window.  I  put  this  down  to 
modesty  on  his  part.  He  wished  to  leave  me  alone  with 
my  patient.  So  I  became  more  and  more  confidential  to 
old  Bulliston." 

("  Peterson,"  I  moaned,  "  all  is  over  between  us  from 
this  moment !  ") 

"But  the  old  ruffian  would  not  allow  Mr.  Bald-head  to 
remove  himself  quietly,"  said  Peterson,  continuing  bis 
tale  calmly. 

"'James,'  he  cried  sharply,  'stop  where  you  are. 
All  this  should  be  very  interesting  to  you.' 

"'So  it  is,'  said  the  young  man,  smiling  in  the  rum- 
mest  way,  '  very  interesting  indeed  ! ' 

"So,  somewhat  elated,  I  went  on  prescribing  rest, 
massage,  the  double-feeding  dodge,  and,  above  all,  no 
intercourse  with  his  own  family.     When  I  got  through 


348  PETERSON'S   PATIENT 

my  rigmarole,  the  old  fellow  cocked  liis  head  to  the  side 
like  a  blessed  dicky -bird,  and  remarked  :  '  It  shows  what 
wonderful  similarity  there  is  between  the  minds  of  you 
men  of  science.  Talk  of  the  transference  of  ideas ! 
Why,  that  is  just  what  my  nephew  was  saying  before 
you  came  in  —  almost  in  the  same  words.  Let  me  intro- 
duce you  to  my  nephew,  Dr.  Webb-Playfair,  of  Harley 
Street.' 

"  You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  straw.  I 
could  hardly  return  the  fellow's  very  chilly  nod.  I  heart- 
ily confounded  that  little  bird-nesting  minx  who  had 
got  me  into  such  a  scrape.     But  I  had  an  idea. 

"  '  Perhaps,  sir,'  I  said,  '  if  you  would  allow  me  to  con- 
sult Dr.  Webb-Playfair  we  might  be  able  to  assist  one 
another.' 

" '  Certainly,'  cried  the  little  old  man,  speaking  as 
sharply  as  a  Skye-terrier  yelps ;  '  be  off  into  the  library. 
Jem,  you  know  the  way  ! ' 

"  I  tell  you  what,  McQuhirr,  I  did  not  feel  particu- 
larly chirpy  as  I  followed  that  fellow's  shiny  crown  into 
the  next  room.  He  sat  down  on  a  table,  swinging  one 
leg  and  looking  at  me  without  speaking.  For  a  moment 
I  could  not  find  words  to  begin,  but  his  eyes  were  on  me 
with  a  kind  of  twinkle  in  them. 

" '  Well  ? '  he  said,  as  if  he  had  a  right  to  demand  an 
explanation.  That  decided  me.  I  would  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it. 

"  So  I  told  him  the  whole  story  —  how  I  had  first  met 
Truda,  of  our  bird-nesting,  and  how  Truda  wanted  me  to 
be  able  to  come  often  to  the  house  —  because  of  the  eggs. 

"  The  bald  young  man  began  to  laugh  as  I  went  on 
with  my  narrative,  though  it  was  no  laughing  matter  to 


PETERSON'S    PATH  349 

me,  I  can  tell  yon.     And   especiall;     when    I   confi 
that  I  did  not  think  there  was  anything  th<  r  with 

his  uncle,  and  thai  Neurasthenia  was  the  firsi   thing  tl 
came  into  my  head,  because  I  had  been  reading  his  own 
article  in  the   Lancet   before   I    came  out.     He  thought 
that  was  the  cream  of  the  joke.     He  was  all  of  a  .u" 
fellow,  and  n<>  mistake. 

" '  So,'  he  said,  'to  speak  plainly,  you  are  h,  love  with 
my  cousin,  and  you  plotted  to  keep  the  father  in   b 
in  order  that  you  might    make   love  to  the   dau 
That  is  the  most  remarkable  recent  application  "l  medi- 
cal science  I  have  heard  of !  ' 

"'Oh  no,'  I  cried,  'I  assure  you  it  was  Truda  who 

p 

"'Ah,'  he  said  quietly,  "it  was  Truda,  was  it?  1  can 
well  believe  that.' 

"Then  he  thought  a  long  while,  and  at  last  he  said, 
'Well,  it  will  do  the  old  man  a  ..  deal  of  good  to 
stay  in  bed  and  not  worry  his  own  family  and  the  whole 
neighbourhood  with  his  whimsies.  Moreover,  milk  diet 
is  a  very  soothing  thing.  We  will  let  it  go  a',  that. 
You  can  settle  your  own  affairs  with  my  cousin  Ger- 
trude, Dr.  Peterson;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that. 
Indeed,  I  would  not  meddle  with  that  volcanic  young 
person's  private  concerns  for  all  the  wealth  of  the 
Indies !     Let  us  go  back  to  my  uncle.' 

"  So,"  concluded  Peterson,  knocking  the  ashes  out  of 
his  pipe  on  the  bars  of  the  grate,  '■'  the  old  fellow  has 
been  in  bed  ever  since  and  has  drunk  his  own  weight  in 
good  cow's  milk  several  times  over.  He  is  putting  on  flesh 
every  day,  and  his  temper  is  distinctly  im] iroving.  He 
can  be  trusted  with  a  candlestick  beside  him  on  the  stand 


350  PETERSON'S  PATIENT 

now,  "without  the  certainty  of  his  throwing  it  at  his 
nurse." 

"  And  Truda,"  I  suggested,  "  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  of  course  I  told  her  how  her  cousin  had  said 
that  I  had  ordered  the  father  to  bed,  in  order  that  I 
might  make  love  to  the  daughter.  She  and  I  were  in 
the  waterside  glade  beyond  the  pond  at  the  time.  You 
know  the  place.  We  were  looking  for  dippers'  nests. 
She  stopped  and  said: 

"  '  Jem  Playf air  said  that,  did  he  ? ' 

" '  Yes,  those  were  his  very  words,'  I  said,  with  a  due 
sense  of  their  heinousness. 

"  '  Ke  said  you  sent  my  father  to  bed  that  you  might 
make  love  to  me  ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

"  She  looked  all  about  the  glade,  and  then  up  at  me. 

"  <  Well,  did  you  f '  she  said." 

Tt  "J(F  "Tc  'ff  ^>  sPr 

This  is  Peterson's  story  exactly  as  he  told  it  to  me  on 
my  return.  That  is  some  time  ago  now,  but  there  is 
little  to  add.  Mr.  Bliss  Bulliston  is  now  much  better 
both  in  health  and  in  temper,  and  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  I  shall  lose  my  assistant  some  of  these 
days.  The  young  couple  are  talking  of  going  out  to 
British  Columbia.  No  complete  collection  of  the  eggs  of 
that  Colony  has  ever  been  made,  and  Peterson  says  that 
the  climate  is  so  healthy  there,  that  for  some  years  there 
will  be  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  help  Truda  with  her 
collecting. 

This  is  all  very  well  now,  in  the  first  months  of  an 
engagement,  but  as  a  family  man  myself,  I  have  my 
doubts  as  to  the  permanence  of  such  an  arrangement. 


TWO   HUMOURISTS 

Our  gentle  humourist  is  Nathan  Monypenny.  No 
man  ever  heard  him  laugh  aloud,  yet  aa  few  ha'l  • 
seen  him  without  a  gleam  of  something  akin  to  kindly 
humour  in  his  eye.  Even  now,  when  the  bitterness  of 
life  and  its  ultimate  loneliness  are  upon  him,  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  be  next  Nathan,  even  at  a  funeral.  During 
that  dreadful  ten  minutes  when  the  black-coated,  crinkle- 
trousered  company  waits  outside  for  the  "service  "to 
over,  his  company  is  universally  considered  ood  as 

a  penny   bap   and  a   warm   drink."      In   former   da 
within  the  memory  of  my  father,  he  had  a   friend  and 
fellow-humourist  in  the  village,  one  "Doog"   (that  is, 
Douglas)  Carnochan. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  companions  was  remark- 
able. They  both  lived  in  the  same  street  of  our  li- 
country  hamlet.  Indeed,  necessarily  so,  for  Whinny- 
liggate  has  but  one  street,  strictly  so  called.  The  few 
cottages  along  the  "Well-road,"  and  the  more  pre: 
tious  cluster  of  upstarts  which  keeps  the  Free  Kirk  in 
countenance  on  the  braeface,  have  never  arrogated  to 
themselves  the  name  of  a  street. 

So  at  one  end  of  the  Piccadilly-cum-TJegent-street  of 
Whinnyliggate  —  the  upper  end  —  lived  Nathan  Mony- 
penny, and  at  the  other  end  dwelt  his  rival,  Doog,  also, 
though  less  worthily,  denominated  "humourist."'  They 
were  thus  separated  by  something  considerably  less  than 

361 


352  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  honest  unpaveinented  king's  high- 
way. But,  though  they  were  personally  friends,  green 
oceans  and  trackless  continents  lay  between  their  several 
characters  and  dispositions. 

Nathan,  at  the  upper  end,  was  a  bachelor,  hale,  fresh, 
and  hearty  as  when  he  had  finished  his  'prenticeship. 
Doog  at  forty  possessed  several  children,  all  that  re- 
mained of  a  poor,  overworked,  downtrodden  wife,  and  a 
countenance  so  marled  and  purpled  with  drink,  that  he 
looked  an  old  man  before  his  time.  Nathan's  shop  was 
his  own,  and  he  was  understood  to  have  already  a 
"  weel-filled  stocking-fit  up  the  lum,"  or,  in  the  modern 
interpretation,  a  comfortable  balance  down  at  Cairn 
Edward  Bank,  and  a  quiet  old  age  assured  to  him  by  a 
life  of  industrious  self-denial. 

Doog  never  had  a  penny  to  bless  himself  with,  later 
in  the  week  than  Tuesday ;  and,  indeed,  often  enough 
very  few  to  bless  his  wife  withal  even  on  Saturday 
nights,  when,  as  Avas  his  custom,  he  staggered  home- 
wards with  the  poor  remnants  of  his  week's  wage  in  his 
pocket. 

Nathan's  wit  was  of  the  kind  which  goes  best  with  the 
sedate  tapping  of  a  snuffmull,  or  the  tinkling  of  brass 
weights  into  counter-scales  —  Doog's  rang  loudest  to  the 
jingling  of  toddy  tumblers.  Nathan  loved  to  gossip 
doucely  at  the  door  of  eventide  with  the  other  trades- 
men of  the  village,  with  Bob  Carter  the  joiner,  his  apron 
twisted  about  his  scarred  hands,  with  bluff  prosperous 
Joe  Mitchell  the  mason,  and  with  Peter  Miles  the 
tailor,  as  he  sat  on  the  low  seat  outside  his  door  picking 
the  last  basting  threads  out  of  a  new  waistcoat. 

Doog's    witticisms,  on  the  other    hand,    were  chiefly 


TWO    bTTJMOTJRIS 

lauuched    in     the    "Golden     Lion,"    ainid    I 
ious  laughter  of  Jake  McMinn,  the 

Stranraer,"   Leein'   Tain,  the    Local    horse-docto 
out    diploma),    and    "Chuckie"    Orchison,    the    rilla 
ne'er-do-weel  and  licensed  spo  for  drinJ 

neighbourhood. 

Yet  there  existed  a  curious  and  inexplicable  liki 
tween  the  two  men.    There  was  never  a  day  thai  N 
the  douce  and  respectable,  did  qo1   leave  his  quid  ■'■ 
cottage  at  the  head  of  the  brae,  where  he  dwell  all 
with  his  groceries,  and  step  sedately  down,stopp 
twenty  yards  to  gossip,  or  drop  a  word,  tl  I   with 

one   of  his   kindly   smiles,    with 

never  seemed  to  be  going  any  wIm-iv  in  parti  he 

always    visited   Doog    Carnochan's    house  I 
turned.     And   many   a   night   did    Nathan,    finding    I 
husband  not  at  home,  purs  ture  the  tru 

and  bring  him  back  to  the  tumble-down  shanty,  where 
the  five  ill-fed  children  and  the  one  weary-faced  v 
furnished  a  tragic  comment  upon  the  far-]  1  con- 

vivial humours  of  the  husband  and  father. 

The  tale  of  Nathan  and  Doog  is  one  which  wants  not 
examples  in  all  ages  of  the  earth's  history,      tl 
story  of  a  woman's  mistake     Once  Dahlia  Ogilvy   had 
been  a  bright  frolicsome  girl,  winding  the  you] 
of  the  parish  round  her  fingers  with  arch  mischief,  grant- 
ing  a   favour   here   and   denying   one    there,  with   thai 
pleasant  and  innocent  abuse  of  power  which  comes  so 
suddenly  to  a  girl  who,  in  any  rank  of  h 
find  herself  beautiful. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  wilful  beauty  n  I  >ah- 

lia  Carnochan.     A  stronger  -woman  mighl  hav<   mastered 


354  TWO  HUMOURISTS 

her  fate,  a  weaker  would  have  fled  from  it  5  but  she  only 
accepted  the  inevitable,  and,  like  one  who  knows  before- 
hand that  her  task  is  hopeless,  she  did  what  she  could 
with  silent  resignation,  waiting  clear-eyed  for  that  death 
which  alone  would  bring  her  to  the  end  of  her  pain. 

Yet  at  the  time  it  had  seemed  natural  enough  that 
Dahlia  should  prefer  the  handsome  debonair  Douglas 
Carnochan,  to  quiet  Nathan  Monypenny,  who  had  so 
little  to  say  for  himself,  and  so  seldom  said  it.  Besides, 
Dahlia  had  always  known  that  she  could  with  a  word 
send  Nathan  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  whilst  there  were 
certain  wild  ways  about  the  other  even  then,  which  had, 
for  a  foolish  ignorant  maid,  all  the  attraction  of  the  un- 
known. She  was  a  little  afraid  of  Doog  Carnochan,  and 
there  is  no  better  subsoil  whereon  to  grow  love  in  a  girl's 
heart,  than  just  the  desire  of  conquest  mixed  with  a  little 
fear. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that,  though  Nathan  had  carried 
little  Dahlia's  school-bag  and  fought  her  battles  ever  since 
she  could  toddle  across  from  one  cottage  to  the  other,  it 
was  not  he  who,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  when  the  blossom 
came  to  its  brightest  and  most  beautiful,  gathered  it  and 
set  it  on  his  bosom.    It  ought  to  have  been,  but  it  was  not. 

As  a  young  man  Doog  Carnochan  was  bright  and 
clever.  Most  people  in  the  village  prophesied  a  brilliant 
future  for  him  —  that  is,  those  who  knew  not  the  "  un- 
stable as  water"  which  was  written  like  a  legend  across 
his  character.  He  was  the  son  of  a  small  crofter  in  the 
neighbourhood,  but  he  companied  habitually  with  those 
above  him  in  rank,  with  the  sons  of  large  farmers  and 
rich  stock-breeders.  Some  of  these,  his  cronies  and  boon 
companions,  would  be  sure  to  assist  him,  so  every  one 


TWO    BUMOURIS 

said.  They  would  set  him  up  as  a  "dealer"  they 
would  put  him  in  chai  i  a  "led"  farm  or  two. 
Doog's  fortune  was  as  good  as  made. 

So,  at  least,  injudicious  flatterer.^  1  him.     Bo  he 

himself  believed.  So  he  told  the  innocent,  lily-like 
Dahlia  Ogilvy  at  the  time  of  year  when  the  Sweet  Will- 
iam gave  forth  his  evening  perfume,  when  the 
on  the  latest  wall-flowers,  and  the  scarlet  lightning  span- 
gled the  ducky  places  beneath  the  hedgerows  where  the 
lovers  were  wont  to  sit.  But  the  blue  cowled  bells  of 
the  poisonous  monkshood  in  the  cottage  flow,  r  - 
did  not  see,  though  with  some  premonition  of  fate,  Dah- 
lia shivered  and  nestled  to  her  betrothed  as  the  breeze 
swept  over  them  chill  and  bitter  from  the  east. 

And  Nathan  Monypenny,  leaning  on  the  gate-post  that 
he  might  sigh  out  his  soid  towards  the  cottage  of  his 
beloved,  by  chance  heard  their  words;  and,  therewith 
being  stricken  well-nigh  to  the  death,  softly  withdrew 
and  left  them  alone. 

After  that  night  Nathan  sought  the  company  of  Doog 
Carnochan  more  than  ever. 

Friends  warned  him  that  Doog  was  no  fit  companion 
for  such  as  he.  They  insisted  that  he  was  neglecting 
his  business.  They  said  all  those  useful  and  convincing 
things  which  friends  keep  in  stock  for  such  occasions. 
Yet  Nathan  did  not  desist,  till  he  had  arranged  the  mar- 
riage of  Dahlia  Ogilvy  and  Douglas  Carnochan  beyond 
all  possibility  of  retractation. 

He  it  was  who  accompanied  the  swain  to  put  up  the 
banns.  He  it  was  who  paid  the  five-shilling  fee  that 
the  pair  should  be  thrice  cried  on  on<  «ih  day.  and 

the  wedding  hastened  by  a  whole  fortnight. 


356  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

Perhaps  he  wished  to  shorten  his  own  pain.  Perhaps, 
he  told  himself,  when  once  Dahlia  was  Douglas  Carno- 
chan's  wife,  he  would  think  no  more  of  her.  At  any 
rate,  something  strong  and  moving  wrought  in  the  reti- 
cent heart  of  the  young  tradesman.  He  approved  the 
house  which  Doog  took  for  his  bride.  He  also  guaran- 
teed the  rent.  He  lent  the  money  for  the  furniture,  and 
looked  after  Doog  on  the  day  of  the  marriage,  that  he 
might  be  brought  soberly  and  worthily  to  the  altar. 

It  was  a  plain-song  altar  indeed,  for,  of  course,  the 
pair  were  married  in  the  little  white  cottage  next  to 
Nathan's,  where  Dahlia  had  lived  all  her  life.  When  he 
saw  her  in  bridal  white,  Nathan  remembered  with  a 
sudden  gulp  a  certain  little  toddling  thing  in  white  pina- 
fores, whom  he  used  to  lift  over  the  hedge  that  he  might 
feed  her  with  the  earliest  ripe  gooseberries. 

Every  one  said  that  they  made  a  handsome  pair  as 
they  stood  up  before  the  minister,  who,  with  his  back  to 
the  fire,  did  not  know  that  he  was  singeing  his  Geneva 
gown.  For,  being  yet  young  to  these  occasions,  he  wore 
that  encumbrance  because  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
displaying  the  hood  of  his  college  degree. 

The  young  women  smiled  covertly  at  the  contrast 
afforded  by  the  bridegroom  and  his  "  best-man,"  as  they 
stood  up  together.  They  did  not  wonder  at  Dahlia's 
preference.  Any  of  them  would  have  done  the  same 
thing,  if  she  had  had  the  chance. 

"  What  a  fine  gray  suit !  —  how  well  it  fits  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  that  pale  blue  tie,  how  it  matches  the 
flower  in  his  coat !  " 

Thus  they  gossiped,  all  unaware  that  it  was  the  hard- 
earned  money  of  the  plain-favoured  and  shy  "  best-man  " 


TWO   EUMOUM8T8  857 

which  had   boughl   all   thai    wedding   raiment; 
that  sky-blue  tie,  and  fch  en  the  flower 

groom's  buttonhole  had  in  Nathan   6 i 

garden,  and  had  been  pluck*  :  and  affi 

Thus  it  was  that  the  story  began,  and   thi 
reason  why  Nathan  sought  carefully  day  by  i 
any  means  he   might  3  thdraw   his   friend1 

feet  out  of  fearful  pit  and  miry  <•!. 

Never  a  morning  dawned  for  Nathan,  \  he 

had  done  all  his  life,  with  the  hum  of  the  ranged   I 
hives  under  his  window  in  his  ear,  or  else  listening 
the  pattering  of  the  winter  storms  on  his  hit 
he  did  not  bethink  himself:  "  It  is  I  who  am  responsi- 
ble.    I  must  help  him."     Then   he   would   add  with  a 
sigh:  "  And  her." 

And  so  help  he  did,  for  the  must  pari  in  ways  hii 
and  secret.     For  he  dared  not  give  money  to  Doog.     II 
knew  all  too  well  where  that  would  have  gone.     Neither 
for  very  pride's  sake,  and  in  reverence  for  the  secret  oi 
his   heart,   could    he   bring   himself  to   give    money 
Dahlia.     Nevertheless,  as  by  some  unseen  hand,  tie 
heartsick  woman  found  her  burden  in  many  diri 
marvellously  eased. 

Sticks  were  stacked  in  the  little  wood-shed  which 
Doog  had  set  up  in  the  first  virtuous  glow  of  husband- 
hood —  and  never  been  inside  since.  No  hens  laid  like 
Dahlia's  —  and  the  strange  thing  was  thai  they  invari- 
ably laid  in  the  night,  sometimes  a  dozen  al  a  time,  all 
in  one  nest.  Her  children,  playing  in  the  ho1  d 
her  little  garden,  had  more  than  once  turned  ap  a  sover- 
eign or  a  crown-piece  wrapped  in  paper  and  run  with  it 
to  their  mother. 


358  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

From  Nathan's  shop,  also,  there  came  flitches  of  bacon 
which  were  never  ordered  by  Dahlia  Carnochan  —  flour 
and  meal,  too,  in  times  of  stress.  And  it  nearly  always 
was  a  time  of  stress  with  Doog. 

Twice  a  year  Nathan,  with  much  circumlocution, 
would  extract  a  reluctant  shilling  or  two  from  Doog  on 
a  flush  pay-night,  taking  care  that  some  of  his  cronies 
should  hear  the  colloquy.  Then  in  the  morning  he 
would  send  round  the  six  months'  account  duly  and 
completely  receipted. 

But  more  often  than  not  the  crony  would  put  it  all 
round  the  village  that  Nathan  Monypenny  had  been 
dunning  poor  Doog  Carnochan  the  night  before ;  and 
so,  among  the  unthinking,  Nathan  got  the  reputation 
of  being  a  hard  man. 

"  He  doesna  do  onything  for  nocht !  Na,  sune  or  syne, 
Nathan  likes  to  see  the  colour  o'  his  siller,"  was  said  of 
him  behind  his  back.  And  Doog's  generous  kindness  of 
heart  was  dwelt  upon  as  a  foil  to  his  friend's  niggardliness. 

"  He  micht  hae  letten  puir  Doog  owe  him  the  bit 
shillin'  or  twa  and  never  missed  it ! "  represented  the 
general  sense  of  the  community. 

But  Doog  himself,  be  his  faults  what  they  might, 
allowed  none  to  speak  ill  of  Nathan  Monypenny. 

Did  he  not  half  choke  the  life  out  of  Davie  Hoatson 
for  some  hinted  comment  (it  was  never  clearly  under- 
stood what),  till  they  had  to  be  separated  by  kindly  vio- 
lence, "Doog  being  yet  unappeased?  Furthermore,  did 
he  not  seek  the  jester  for  three  whole  days,  all  the  time 
breathing  fire  and  fury,  with  intent  to  choke  the  other 
half  of  a  worthless  life  out  of  him  ? 

This  was  the  state  of  the  case  when  Nathan  Mony- 


TWO    HUMOURISTS 

penny's  life  temptation  came  upon  him.     !t  v.  rim 

and  notable  January  night  —  the  fourth  day  of  th< 
thaw.    The  rain  had  gusted  and  blown  and  threshed  and 

pelted  upon  those  window-panes  of  Whinn\ 
looked  towards  the  west,  till  there  was  not  a  Bpeck  of 
dirt  upon  them  anywhere,  except  on  the  inside.  The 
snow  had  melted  fast  under  the  pitiless  downpour,  and 
the  patient  sheep  stood  about  behind  dyke-backs,  or  with 
the  courage  of  despair  pushed  through  holes  in  bedraggled 
hedges,  to  take  a  furtive  nibble  at  the  brown  stubble  of 
last  year's  cornfields. 

It  was  half -past  nine  when  Nathan  went  to  his  door 
to  look  out.  Nathan  Monypenny  had  built  himself  a 
lobby,  and  so  was  thought  to  be  "  upsetting."  At  that 
time  for  a  man  to  wear  a  white  collar  on  week-da}  b,  or 
to  walk  with  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  for  a  won 
to  be  "dressed"  in  the  forenoon,  or  to  wear  gloves  exc 
when  actually  entering  the  kirk  door,  for  a  householder 
to  whitewash  his  premises  oftener  than  once  in  five 
years,  or  to  erect  a  porch  to  his  dwelling,  was  held  to 
be  "upsetting" — that  is,  he  (or  she)  was  evidently  set- 
ting up  to  be  better  than  the  neighbours  —  an  iniquity 
as  unpopular  in  Whinny liggate  as  elsewhere  in  the 
world. 

From  this  "upsetting"  porch,  then,  Nathan  loob-d 
out.  A  dash  of  rain,  solid  as  if  the  little  house  had 
shipped  a  sea  in  a  perilous  ocean  passage,  took  Nathan 
about  the  ankles  and  rebuked  him  in  a  very  practical 
fashion  for  coming  to  the  door,  as  is  Galloway  custom, 
in  Ins  "stocking-feet."  It  had  blown  in  from  a  broken 
"roan  "  pipe,  which  Nathan  had  been  intending  to  mend 
as  soon  as  the  snow  went  off  the  roof. 


360  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

Nathan  shut  the  door  and  went  within.  He  had  seen 
little  through  the  blackness  save  the  bright  lights  of  the 
"  Golden  Lion/'  and  heard  nothing  above  the  long-drawn 
whoo  of  the  storm  save  the  noisy  chorus  of  the  drinking 
song  which  Doog  Carnochan  was  singing.  Nathan  knew 
it  was  Doog's  voice.  About  this  he  could  make  no  mis- 
take. Had  he  not  listened  to  it  long  ago,  when  Doog 
sang  in  the  village  choir,  knowing  all  the  while,  full 
well,  that  he  was  singing  his  Dahlia's  heart  out  of  her 
bosom  ?  N  a/than  Monypenny  sighed  and  thought  of  that 
desolate  house  down  at  the  other  end  of  the  street  where 
that  same  Dahlia  would  even  then  be  putting  her  chil- 
dren to  bed.  He  knew  just  the  faintly  wearied  look 
there  would  be  on  the  face  from  which  the  youthful 
roses  had  long  since  faded.  He  would  have  given  all  he 
possessed  in  the  world  to  sit  and  watch  her  thus,  to 
comfort  her  in  her  loneliness ;  but,  resolutely  putting  the 
temptation  aside,  he  drew  the  great  Bible  that  had  been 
his  father's  off  its  shelf  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

Then  he  brought  a  new  candle  from  the  shop  and 
lighted  it.  But,  so  great  was  the  storm  without  that 
even  in  that  comfortable  inner  room  the  draught  blew 
the  flame  about  and  the  words  seemed  to  dance  on  the 
printed  page. 

Again  and  again  during  his  reading  Nathan  lifted  his 
head  and  listened.  The  "  wag-at-the-wa' "  clock  struck 
ten  with  enormous  birr  and  clatter,  beginning  with  a 
buzz  of  anticipation  five  minutes  too  soon,  and  continu- 
ing to  emit  applausive  "  curmurrings  "  of  internal  satis- 
faction for  full  five  minutes  after  the  actual  stroke  of 
the  hour  had  died  on  the  ear. 

Nathan  paused  in  his  reading  to  listen  for  the  sound 


TWO    HUMOURISTS  361 

of  the  roisterers'  feet  going  homeward  from  the  "Golden 

Lion."     Doog    would    be   one  of   those,    most  likely  the 
drunkest  and  the  noisiest.     He  must   be  half-waj  do 
the  street  by  now,  stumbling  along  with  trippings  ami 

foul,  irresponsible  words.     Now  Dahlia  would  I ;. 

ing  the  door  to  hirn  —  Nathan  knew  the  look  on  her  face. 
When  he  shut  his  eyes  he  could  see  it  even  more  clearly. 
In  the  middle  dark  of  the  night,  when  he  lay  sleeph 
staring  at  the  ceiling,  he  could  see  it  most  clearly  of  all. 

For  this  reason  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  finish  and  put 
out  the  light ;  but  it  had  to  be  done  at  last.  And  then 
with  his  head  on  the  pillow  Nathan  Monypenny  be- 
thought himself  with  small  satisfaction  of  his  wasted 
life.  Of  what  use  was  his  house,  his  money  in  the  bank. 
his  eldership,  the  praise  of  men,  the  satisfactory  state  of 
his  ledger  ?  After  all,  he  was  a  lonely  man,  and  out 
there  in  the  rain,  dank  and  dripping,  leafless  and  forlorn, 
shivered  the  hedge  over  which  in  golden  weather  he  had 
lifted  Dahlia  Ogilvy.  At  the  rose-bush  in  the  corner  she 
had  once  let  him  kiss  her.  Ah !  but  he  must  not  think 
of  that.  She  was  Dahlia  Carnochan,  and  her  drunken 
husband  had  just  reeled  home  to  her.  Yet  as  he  sat  and 
stared  at  the  red  peats  on  the  hearth  Nathan  Mony- 
penny  could  think  of  nothing  else,  and  hew  her  hair  had 
had  a  flower-like  scent  as  he  drew  her  to  him  that  night 
when  (for  once  in  his  gray  and  barren  life)  the  roses 
bloomed  red  and  smelled  sweet. 

But  there  was  something  else  which  kept  Nathan's 
nerves  on  the  stretch,  something  that  was  not  summed 
up  in  his  thoughts  of  Dahlia  —  an  apprehension  of  im- 
pending disaster.  Even  after  he  had  gone  to  bed  hr 
lifted  his  head  more  than  once  from  the  pillow,  for  his 


362  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

heart,  stounding  and  rushing  in  his  ears,  shut  out  all 
other  noises.  Then  he  sat  up  and  listened.  He  seemed 
to  hear  a  cry  above  the  roar  and  swelter  of  the  storm  — 
a  man's  cry  for  help  in  mortal  need. 

Nathan  rose  and  drew  on  his  clothes  hurriedly,  yet 
buttoning  with  his  accustomed  carefulness  an  overcoat 
closely  about  him.  Then,  leaving  a  lighted  candle  on 
the  table,  he  opened  the  door  and  stepped  out  into  the 
darkness.  The  wind  met  him  like  a  wall.  The  rain 
assailed  his  cheeks  and  stunned  his  ears  like  a  volley  of 
bullets.  For  a  full  minute  he  stood  exposed  to  the 
broad  fury  of  the  tempest,  slashed  by  the  driving  sleet, 
beaten  and  deafened  into  bewilderment  by  a  turmoil  of 
buffeting  gusts.  Then,  recovering  himself  a  little,  he 
turned  aside  the  lee  of  the  gable  of  his  cottage,  which 
looked  towards  the  northeast.  Here  he  was  more  shel- 
tered, and  though  the  wind  still  sang  stridently  overhead, 
and  the  swirls  of  lashing  rain  occasionally  beat  upon  him 
like  "  hale  water,"  he  could  listen  with  some  composure 
for  a  repetition  of  the  sound  which  had  disturbed  him. 

There  —  there  it  was  again  !  A  hoarse  cry,  ending  in 
a  curious  gasp  and  gurgle  of  extinction.  Nathan  almost 
thought  that  he  could  distinguish  his  own  name. 

He  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  funnel-wise,  to  form  a 
sort  of  rough  speaking-trumpet.  "  Halloo !  "  he  shouted. 
"  Where  are  you  ?  " 

But  it  was  an  ai^preciable  interval  before  any  voice 
replied,  and  then  it  seemed  more  like  a  dying  man's 
moan  of  anguish  than  any  human  tones. 

"It's  somebody  in  the  water!"  Nathan  cried,  and 
rushed  down  the  little  strip  of  garden  which  separated 
his  cottage   from  the  Whinnyliggate  Burn.      This   was 


TWO    BUM01JRIST8 

ordinarily  a  clear  little  rivulet,  running  lucidly    brown 
and  pleasantly  a1  prattle  over  a  pebbly  bed.    b 
for  "bairdies"  in  its   three-foot-deep    pools.  mil 

water-lily   fringed  the   swamps  where  Li  uded  in 

broad  sedgj    ponds.     But  in  spite  of  its  apparent  inno- 
cence, Whinnyliggate  Lane  was  a  stream  oi  a  dangi 
reputation.      Its  ultimate  source  was  a   deep  mountain 
lake  high  among  the    bosoming  hills   of   Grirthon,   and 
when  the  rains  descended  and  the  flo  une,  i1    some- 

times chanced  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  rilla 
to  find  that  their  prattling  babe  had  become  a  giant,  and 
that  the  burn,  which  the  night  before  bad  scare 
the  pebbles  in  its  bed,  was  now  roaring  wide  and  strong, 
thirty  fret  from  bank  to  bank,  crumbling  their  garden 
walls,  and  even  threatening  with  destruction  the  sacred 
Midtoon  Brig  itself,from  time  immemorial  the  Palladium 
of  the  liberties  and  the  Parliament  House  of  the  gossip 
of  the  village. 

The  part  of  the  bank  down  which  Nathan  ran  was 
used  by  the  village  smith  for  the  important  work  of 
••  hooping  wheels,"  or  shrinking  the  iron  ••  shods  "'  on  I 
wheels  of  the  red  farm-carts.  There  were  always  a  few 
rusty  spare  "hoops"  of  solid  iron  scattered  about.  while  a 
general  debris  of  blacksmithery,  outcast  and  decre] 
cumbered  the  burnside. 

Before  Nathan  had  gone  far  he  found  himself  splashing 
in  the  rising  water. 

"Loch  (Jiitlion  has  broken  its  dam!"  he  murmured; 
"God  hel] i  the  puir  soul  that  fa's  intil   Whinnyligg 
bane  this  nicht !  " 

Tt  was   nearly  pitch  dark,  and    Nathan    Monypenny, 
standing  up  to  his  knees  in  the  swirl  of  the  flood,  called 


364  TWO  HUMOURISTS 

aloud,  but  got  no  reply  from  any  human  voice.  The 
forward  hurl  of  the  storm  whooping  overhead,  the  roar 
of  the  icy  torrent  fighting  with  the  caving  banks  be- 
neath, were  the  onty  sounds  he  could  distinguish. 

He  was  indeed  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  water  edge 
and  regaining  his  comfortable  cottage,  when,  wading 
through  a  shallow  extension  of  the  stream  near  the 
bridge,  his  foot  struck  something  soft,  which  carried 
with  it  a  curiously  human  suggestion.  He  stopped  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  rough  cloth  and  sodden  sock  which 
covered  a  man's  ankle. 

Though  not  great  of  stature,  Nathan  Monypenny  was 
both  strong  and  brave.  He  stooped  and  endeavoured  to 
disentangle  the  boot  from  the  iron  hoop  in  which  it  was 
caught.  Succeeding  in  this,  he  next  endeavoured  to  pull 
the  drowning  man  out  of  the  water.  But  the  head  and 
upper  part  of  the  body  hung  over  the  bank,  and  were 
drawn  down  by  the  whole  force  of  the  torrent. 

Again  and  again  Nathan  strove  with  all  his  might,  but 
the  water  wrenched  and  wrestled  till  the  body  was  almost 
snatched  from  his  grasp.  More  than  once,  indeed,  Nathan 
came  very  near  going  over  the  verge  himself  and  sharing 
the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  whom  he  was  endeavouring 
to  rescue. 

At  last,  however,  by  dint  of  exertions  almost  super- 
human, he  succeeded  in  getting  the  man  to  the  edge  of 
the  water,  and  immediately  sank  exhausted  on  the  sod- 
den grass.  By-and-bye,  however,  he  staggered  up,  and 
without  ever  thinking  of  going  to  seek  for  help,  he 
succeeded  in  balancing  the  unconscious  burden  upon 
his  shoulders  and  carrying  it  staggeringly  to  his  own 
door. 


TWO    aUMOURISTS 

The  candle  he  had  lighted  was  stil]  burning,  tho 
it  seemed  to  Nathan  thai  he  must  have  been  ;i  very  1< 

time  away.     He  let  the  1h.1v   fall   upon   th 

and  then,  oatehing  sight  of  the  pale  f< 

ghastly  under  the  Bicker  of  the  Earthing  dip,  he   Bank 

dismayed  on  a  chair. 

It  was  Doog  Camoohan  —  Dahlia  Car ihan's    hus- 
band.    The  story  was  plain  enough.     Stumbling  hoi 
ward  from  the  "  Golden  Lion,"  he  ba  1  missed  hi.>  drunken 
way,  and  wandered  down  by  the  "  hooping  "  place  to  the 
water's  edge. 

Nathan  stared  open-mouthed.  What  should  he  do'.'  — 
go  for  assistance?  That  perhaps  had  been  wisest  — j 
to  leave  a  man  in  whom  there  might  be  Borne  faint  spark 
of  life !  He  rose  and  stretched  Doog's  anas  out  over  his 
head  and  back  again  time  after  time,  as  he  had  once  seen 
a  doctor  do  on  the  ice  after  a  curling  accident. 

But  there  was  no  drawing  of  breath,  nor  could  he  dis- 
tinguish the  least  beating  of  the  heart.  He  took  down 
the  little  hand-mirror,  which  had  satisfied  the  frugal 
demands  of  his  toilet  all  these  years,  and  put  it  close 
to  the  drowned  man's  lips. 

Yes  —  no — it  could  not  be,  yet  it  was  just    p 
that  there  might  be  a  faint  dimming  of  the  surface  of  I 
mirror. 

Then  a  hot  wondrous  thought  1  saped  up  in  Nathan 
Monypenny's  heart  —  the  devil  in  the  garb  of  an  angel 
of  light. 

What  if  he  were  simply  to  hold  his  hand  —  the  man 
was  as  good  as  dead  already. 

And  what  then?  There  rose  up  before  Nathan  Biony- 
penny  a  vision  of  the  woman  whom   he  had  loved  d 


366  TWO   HUMOURISTS 

than  life,  of  a  pale  and  weary  face  upon  which  he  would 
rejoice  to  bring  out  the  roses  as  in  the  days  of  old. 
Happiness  would  do  it,  he  knew.  And,  like  all  true 
lovers,  he  believed  that  he  alone  could  make  that  one 
woman  happy.  Douglas  Carnochan  ?  What  was  he  but 
a  drunkard  who  had  blighted  two  lives  ?  If  a  hand 
were  stirred  to  help  him  now,  he  would  simply  go  on 
and  finish  the  fell  work  of  the  years.  His  Dahlia's  face 
would  grow  yet  more  weary,  her  shoulders  more  bent, 
and  her  eyes  would  less  seldom  be  raised  from  the  ground 
till  on  a  thrice-welcome  day  the  grave  should  be  opened 
before  her.     Nathan  knew  it  all  by  heart. 

And  this  man  —  why  did  he  deserve  to  live  ?  Had  not 
he  (Nathan)  afforded  him  every  chance  ?  Had  he  not 
obtained  situation  after  situation  for  him  ?  Had  he  not, 
in  fact,  kept  Doog  Carnochan  and  his  family  for  years  ? 
Surely  God  did  not  require  from  him  this  great  final 
sacrifice.  It  was  certainly  a  chance  to  do  lasting  good  — 
a  happy  woman,  a  happy  man,  a  happy  home !  Better, 
too,  (so  Nathan  told  himself)  for  Douglas  Carnochan's 
children.  He  would  be  a  father  to  them  —  that  which 
this  their  own  father  had  never  been.  He  would  train, 
instruct,  place  them  in  the  world.  But  —  he  would  be  a 
murderer  ! 

*  *  "TT  *  "fc  * 

After  an  hour's  hard  work  Doog  Carnochan  sighed. 
Five  minutes  more  and  he  opened  his  eyes.  They 
twinkled  blackly  up  at  his  preserver  with  a  kind  of  ironi- 
cal appreciation  of  the  situation,  and  he  smiled. 

"  Ah,  Nathan."  he  murmured,  "  sae  it's  you  that  has 
drawn  me  oot  o'  the  black  flood  water  !  Man,  ye  had 
better  hae  let  weel  alane  !  " 


TWO    HUMOURISTS 

On  this  occasion   Doog  was  nol  a  humourist  only.     He 
was  also  a  true  prophet.     For,  from  every  point 
save  that  of  the  Eternal   Decrees,  it  would  indeed  b 
been  infinitely  better  if  Nathan  had  lei  well  a  ind 

not  WTested  back  the   unstable   and  degraded 
Douglas  Carnochan  from  the  rushing  waters  of  Whinny- 
liggate  Lane,  that   -January  night  when    Loch    Girthon 
burst  its  bo\uiils. 

For,  as  Nathan  had  forecast,  even  so  it  was.  Doog 
promptly  returned  to  his  wallowing  in  the  mire,  without 
even  making  a  pretence  of  amending  hia   i  1   life. 

Duly  he  brought  down  his  wife's  too  early  gray  hairs  in 
sorrow   to  the    grave.     His   children,    left   to  run 
divided  their  time  between  the  "Golden  Lion-*  and 
country  gaol.     Doog  drank  himself  into  an  unborn   ired 
grave.     Only  Nathan  Monypenny  remains,  an  old  man 
now,  yet  holding  firm-lipped  to  a  conviction  thai    I 
has  explanations  of  the  working  of  His  laws  which   He 
refuses  to  us  on  this  Hither   Side,   but  which   will   !>•• 
granted  in  full  to  us  when  Ave  '"know  as  also  we  are 
known." 

After  Doog's  death  Nathan  bought  and  immedia 
razed  to  the  ground  the  cottage  at  the  foot  of  the  street 
where  Dahlia  Carnochan's  life  tragedy  had  been  enacted. 
He  has  planted  a  garden  of  flowers  there,  to  the  scorn 
and  scandal  of  the  whole  village,  which  is  cut  to  its  utili- 
tarian heart  to  see  so  much  good  potato  land  wasl 
simply  wasted. 

And  every  night  before  Nathan  goes  to  bed  he  steps 
quietly  to  the  low  place  in  the  privet  hedge,  over  which 
he  lifted  little  Dahlia  Ogilvy  more  than  fifty  years  a* 
He  does  nothing  when  he  gets  there     He  does  nol 


368  TWO  HUMOURISTS 

pray.  He  has  none  to  pray  for,  and  lie  wants  nothing 
for  himself  save  God's  ultimate  gift,  easeful  death,  and 
that,  he  knows,  cannot  long  be  delayed. 

But  if  you  watch  him  closely,  you  may  see  him  lift 
his  hand  and  rest  it  gently  upon  the  stem  of  an  ancient 
rose-tree,  as  if  he  had  laid  it  in  benediction  upon  a  young 
child's  head. 


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